Chronicles of Saber Hortator of House Hlaalu
by bhen
Summary: Saber's adventures have just begun with his being named Nerevarine. Now he must tackle House Hlaalu to be named Horator. With Eiryn at his side, he sets off to accomplish what he feels is the impossible. How could a lowly thief, now named Heretic be named
1. Chapter 1

Horator of House Hlaalu

Chapter One:

The click of boot against stone was an empty, hollow sound in the fathomless black of his consciousness. Slow steps echoed like a timepiece, tapping off the inevitable confrontation of his greatest fear. The Dark Elf grew all too aware of a foreboding presence drawing ever closer. From his other senses, he tried to discern where he was. There was a damp chill in the air. The scent of sweat, fear, and moist stone was thick. _This must be a dungeon_. He could feel the shackles bite into his wrists; opening old wounds he had thought had long since healed.

How he came to this place was hazy, as if some half-remembered dream. Saber grasped at memory, like trying to catch fish with bare hands. He couldn't remember much else other than falling asleep at Caius Cosades' old apartment. He had just arrived from the Ashland region, after months of quests and challenges to which time and again he came victorious. After months of living in the land of Morrowind, he had succeeded where so many had failed. The Urshilaku tribe of the Ashlanders had named him Nerevarine, and now he bore the infamous Moon-and-Star ring. His life had fast becoming what bards would later sing in epic stories.

Indisputably, he was now the Incarnate; known as the reborn ancient hero, blessed by Azura, to come and save Morrowind from the evil Sixth House. He was set on the path to fight Dagoth Ur, said to be a mad god living beneath Red Mountain. How was it then, he came to this dark place?

The footsteps stopped too close to be comfortable. It would seem for all he'd accomplished so far, meant little in this dark place. Saber couldn't explain but he knew instinctively who this was, even without seeing his face.

"Nekros…" His voice was loud in this chamber. A throaty, ragged laugh answered him from behind, affirming his suspicions. The damaged throat, ruined by the very wound Saber had inflicted on him in an attempt to kill him almost a lifetime ago…

"How did you know it was me?" The broken voice spoke with amusement, as if playing some marvelous game. Perhaps he was. Nekros always did love his mind games, and toying with others.

"Who else would be tormenting me?" Saber countered, battling to remain stoic and emotionless in the presence of his old master. The master assassin had always had invoked terror in his young apprentice, or struck fear in the heart of just about anyone. Most who had heard the name also would cringe in fear. This was Nekros, Tamriel's most deadly assassin. Reputed for his affinity with pain and death, the monster wore the mantle like a shroud.

This time, Saber realized fears were of unease and distrust of intention. Perhaps because of their recent past history, his dread was not as strangling. Their last meeting was a fierce battle, where Saber lost. Nekros unexpectedly spared his life, leaving him confused and wondering of his objective. The Dunmer reasoned Nekros wouldn't kill him now. At least, so he hoped.

At one time, Nekros had been human, or so Saber could only assume. He'd always viewed the man as a monster but as a boy had never realized the extent of it. Even then, Nekros had used illusion to dupe and trick others into thinking he was human. Now however, the yellow eyes glowed with eternal damnation, and the sharp teeth flashing in a subtle threat when he smiled.

The vampire moved to stand in front of him. He had changed little in the few months since they last met. Long brown hair was drawn back from his angular face to touch between shoulder blades. Eyes of an otherworldly yellow gold, soulless and without pity, considered him with a mocking stare. Saber remembered them being amber brown when he was boy. But then, appearing human had been a trick of magic. He was one of the undead, even back then.

The thin lips drew back in an odd smile of derision, showing off the pointed fangs. "Strange that you would assume this was _my_ doing…"

Saber frowned, not understanding. Who else would chain him up, as he had before? This time, he had no evil minion set to the task of torturing him. "What do you want from me? Why am I here?"

The creature tilted his head slightly, the heavy brows pinched together. "You know what I want, Feryl." He used an old name, an insult really. Saber had many names through his notorious life as a thief and criminal, but his first was what Nekros had named him. Feryl, a word meaning a stray dog in Old Common, had started as an insult, and then became his name. His real name had been lost to him.

"As for why you are here…well," the thin lips resumed its knowing smile. "My attempt at embracing you apparently leaves a strong bond between you and I. I'm in your blood, as you are in mine."

The Dark Elf cringed at the memory. Nekros had tried to transform him into one of his kind, to 'embrace' him into vampirism. Thankfully, Saber was immune to the blood disease, as well as all disease. His gaining such a gift was from the great wizard Divyth Fyr and a remarkable potion to cure him of a deadly disease known as Corprus. The potion worked, but also gave him immunity to every disease known to man. The elixir also gave him eternal life.

Saber twitched. _Eternal…not immortal._ The distinction, the wizard had told him, was to illustrate that he was vulnerable by other means. He was still susceptible to blade, drowning, and other means of death, but sickness and age were not one of them.

As to what Nekros wanted was a topic Saber loathed to consider. As his apprentice, the man had practically owned him back in the Imperial City. His plan was to raise the perfect killer, a soulless benefactor to the world's greatest and most deadly assassin known only as Nekros. Nevertheless, plans fail, and Saber had thought he'd killed his master by sliding a blade across his throat. Nekros still bore the scar from that encounter across his throat. Thing was….at that time, he was a vampire. Nothing short of a stake through the heart could kill him.

_Bonded or not, this explains nothing of why I am here, or how I came to be here…?_ "That doesn't answer my question."

The vampire's smile widened, menacing when he leaned forward. Saber drew back, unable to move far due to the rigid chains. "Oh but it does." The creature whispered, "I wish we had more time, but time waits for no man…or mer. You need to wake up."

"What?" The Dark Elf didn't understand what he meant.

"Wake up." The vampire repeated, drawing back lips to show fangs now dripping in blood. "Or you die!'

----------------

Saber jerked violently from the bed, falling off the small cot in Caius Cosades' apartment. From his sleep-bleary mind, he scrambled to gain bearings and orientation from the nightmare to reality. He still wore clothing and leather armor, having been too tired to do anything but plop on the narrow bed to sleep. His curved sword was in his hand, yet he had no memory of having unsheathed it.

In a matter of a breath however, he realized he was not alone. A low grunt sounded from behind, alerting to the Ash Ghoul who had somehow managed his way into the house. Startled, the Dunmer jabbed his weapon to the thing's midsection. The creature recoiled, swiping clawed hands to barely miss their mark.

What once had been a Dark Elf male, the thing now had nothing in the way of a face. Where eyes and nose should be there was now a gaping cavity. The beast was one of Dagoth Ur's followers who worshipped him as a god. Converts to the Sixth House Cult were given powers and 'gifts' from their lord, one of which was to be transformed into powerful- albeit disgusting- monsters. The ghoul made a low grunt of dismay, lashing out hands that bore claws.

Saber considered he might still be dreaming, except the thing struck him hard in the chest. Sharpened nails raked four marks across the cuirass, tearing the leather open to rip into flesh. Saber yelled, staggered back, finding anger now fueled his temper.

Ash Ghouls were not much of a threat to him normally, but caught unawares, Saber was at the disadvantage, or rather…had been. Pushing aside his surprise and disorientation, the Dunmer rebounded and struck a viscous and determined assault. Another thrust and the creature slumped dead to the floor.

How the hell did that thing make its way into here? Saber thought, sucking in lungfuls of air. The exertion of panicked fighting left him faltering back against a wall to slide down into a sitting position. He gripped his blade in case the thing might come back to life, or another one of Dagoth's followers showed up.

The Ghostgate supposedly contained the creatures. The monolithic barrier of stone and magic surrounded Red Mountain was to keep the followers of Dagoth Ur trapped and in check. Despite the rumors of the gate slowly deteriorating, the city of Balmora was still far from Red Mountain. This thing would have to walk through the city gates and pass several guards to reach this apartment. How did it make its way _here_?

Feeling stupid, Saber rubbed his eyes. "Teleportation!" He muttered, "The damned thing teleported straight into this room." He had to give Dagoth Ur credit to send his freakish creation to do his dirty work. The Dunmer also knew that now he'd have to sleep with his eyes open to avoid further attacks.

Damn him!

Growling in frustration, Saber inspected the damage to his armor and spat in disgust. "I'll need to get that repaired." Most likely, he'd have to buy a new one. If nothing he learned from experience was that a fighter kept his equipment in top condition at all times.

Saber was a thief by chosen profession, not a warrior. Though trained by one of the best swordsmen in all of Tamriel, the Dunmer preferred the challenge of stealth. The skills of covertness taught by Nekros were perfect in placing him in the thieves' guild of the Imperial City. Once transported to Morrowind not a few months prior, the same abilities made an easy ticket to the Thieves' Guild here as well. Much as he was good with a blade, he preferred to avoid confrontation whenever he could.

Peeling off the damaged armor, Saber grimaced at the stinging pain. Blood had soaked the ruined shirt beneath, and coated his chest in gore. It was just his luck when the door opened and a lovely young Breton woman stared gaping at him, finding him bloodied with a body at his feet. Marvelous eyes of green widened in surprise, and she immediately dropped to his side to inspect the damage.

Behind her, a familiar Bosmer thief stood in the open doorway. He carried the same look of shock. Arathor, from the Thieves' Guild preferred the respectfully safe distance near the door. His dark eyes shied from the bloodied corpse, having the wood elf find something…anything to look at besides the mess before him.

"I can't leave you alone for a second!" Eiryn chided him. Gentle hands prodded him without causing further pain. He was amazed at how easily she came to understand how dangerous his life was, how easily she assimilated to his life and simply accepted one adventure after another without surprise. He smiled, while drinking in the very presence of the lovely woman by his side.

He'd met her a few month's prior where he'd gone to lose himself into the Ascadian Isles. He wasn't happy to hear the Emperor of Tamriel had released him from prison to play the fool of his plan. Saber was to become the Incarnate, except the spymaster at the time, Caius Cosades, had believed (as he did) they were to only _appear_ to be the Incarnate.

Saber could still remember the surprise and elation he felt when she first entered his room. He'd spent nearly a week with the 'ladies' of the Earthly Delights, but this woman's natural beauty had their loveliness pale in comparison. Eiryn was sent as messenger from Caius Cosades, spymaster of the Blades. You'd never guess the woman was an agent in the Blades' Guild, but her job was simple; find Saber and deliver a message. To this day, he had no idea what impression he had upon the woman, but she later stayed the night…a memorable, breathtaking night.

"What are you smiling at?" Eiryn asked him, pausing in her inspection to see his crooked grin. Her curved mouth twisted in an attempt to not grin back at him. Most likely, she knew damned well what he was thinking. She had that 'woman's instinct".

He leaned back against the adobe wall, "I love it when you tend to me."

Her eyes rolled dramatically, as she placed her hands carefully over the wound. "Be still….and quiet." Her skills in healing hardly required him to be silent, but he knew she used this as an excuse to shut him up.

He watched her eyes close, and breathing deepen. A little crease formed between graceful brows as she concentrated on the spell. A warm glow emitted from hands to bathe his chest in healing. The blood stopped, the wounds sealed, and only the smallest of lines remained. Now all she needed to do is learn a bit of smithing so she can easily fix his armor, and life would be perfect.

Once finished, she brushed a lock a chestnut curl from her eyes that escaped the long braid draped down her back to touch nearly the small of her back. "Now explain to me how you managed to get attacked here of all places?"

Saber gaped, "Are you implying this is _my_ fault?" He motioned to the body on the floor, still leaking blood on the stone tiles.

"You do seem to find trouble wherever you go." Arathor pointed out, ever helpful. The wood elf held a parchment out to him, as if validating his concerns. Dark eyes turned grim.

Upon seeing the words on the sheaf of paper, Saber's humor had all but disappeared. Reading out loud only served to bring the trouble into harsh reality for him.

"The outlaw named, Saber, stated trade of Thief, lately called Incarnate and Nerevarine, now is shown to the investigating Ordinators and Magistrates of this of this district,…-" Saber gaped as eyes perused the formality of the decree. How did they find out? News travels fast here in Vvardenfell. "This outlaw's claims are false. The prophecies this outlaw cites are discredited. The dishonest character and base purposes of the outlaw in perpetrating this hoax are now made clear to all observers. Saber is sought for various crimes by Ordinators and town guards. Report all encounters with this outlaw to the proper authorities-"

He looked up at both of them, and recognized why their severe expression. "You must be kidding?"

Eiryn sat back on her heels. "Seems you're now a heretic, wanted by the Temple."

"Great." The Dunmer spat in disgust. He'd been called many things in his life, but a heretic hadn't been one of them. This was something new.

"We saw two Ordinators at the South Wall looking for you." Arathor told him, moving to take a seat. He cautiously moved around the body, grimacing as he did so. "Of course, you know the guild will protect you if they can."

Saber rubbed his face, still unnerved by the attack….now this! "I suppose I can't pay off the price on my head this time?"

"This time?" Eiryn echoed with a scowl.

He waved her off, not wanting to discuss past crimes. She knew he was a thief, but for the most part, he told her nothing of his doings. She'd only lecture him, no doubt.

The Bosmer shook his head. Earrings jingled at the action, with the sharp features of face tight in disgust at the scene before him. "I'm afraid not. This is Temple business. But I can tell you that Balmora isn't what you call zealous over the temple. They are more freethinking than those near the city of Vivec, and friendly towards the Empire. I doubt anyone will turn you in around here."

"Great." Saber grunted. "That's a huge comfort."

"And the ghoul?" Eiryn prompted him to stay on course.

Saber tossed the parchment aside, considering if tearing the paper to shred would make him feel any better. "Dagoth Ur." He told her. Speaking the 'devil's' name was explanation enough for the young scout. She knew the course of his destiny was the inevitable confrontation with the mad god. Arathor, however, was a bit muddled on the subject.

Naturally, he'd heard who Dagoth Ur was. Who didn't? The beast had single-handedly held the land of Morrowind in a tight grip of fear and terror. Spreading his cult to almost every corner of Vvardenfell, Dagoth had spread the disease known as Corprus. This quarantined the land of the dark elves from the rest of Tamriel. Fear of the deadly disease struck the hearts of everyone. The disease did not discriminate.

If not corprus, then the members of the Sixth House threatened anyone not of native Dunmer. Even then, those who opposed or threatened the Sixth House fell under their ire.

"How is it that Saber is targeted by the Sixth House?" Arathor asked.

_Because I'm the reincarnated hero of Indoril Nerevar, the very general who struck the fatal blow of Dagoth several lifetimes ago, and meant to destroy him for all time._ Saber decided a more reasonable answer was better for the Bosmer to handle. "I just have that way about me."

Despite himself, Arathor laughed throwing his head back. The bangles in his ears jingled with mirth. "Well you _do_ seem to manage to invoke the wrath of all the wrong people."

Eiryn cast a questioning look to the Dark Elf, who tried to feign innocence with wide eyes and a shrug. He could see her wondering what Arathor was talking about, and who the 'wrong people' were. She knew only a few of the misadventures the thief shared with her. Most instances worked out, but Saber knew luck played a larger part of this. Perhaps his luck was finally running out.

"Isn't this going to make things more difficult for him to become Horator?" Eiryn asked the Bosmer.

"Good point." Saber agreed. "What house will give me the title of Horator if I'm an outlaw?"

"Heretic." Arathor corrected him, and then tapped a finger along his jaw in thought. "Well I admit its not going to be easy, but not for the reasons you think." He continued at the combined stares of perplexity directed at him. "You see, the Great Houses are constantly looking out for their own ends. I doubt they'd care what the Temple thought of you, not when they have their own considerations to think about. If you're taking on Dagoth Ur, I would say some council members will give their votes regardless of what you are. Others can be bribed."

"Bribes…" Saber spat in disgust. He'd underestimated the politics here in Morrowind. The Great Houses used the Morag Tong assassin's guild as a legal means to kill one another, while others simply undermined or outright killed House members. Gold was also a viable means of seeking answers to problems, and every level of society was rife with hands held out in expectation. This quest was getting costly, not to mention frustrating.

"No doubt many of the council members will also have their own quests for you to perform before giving a vote." Arathor added. "I would start with House Hlaalu. They welcome foreigners as it is."

Saber sighed, "I guess I have my work cut out for me."

From the author: Well here it is, the next installment of the Chronicles of Saber. Please leave reviews. I've wanted the story to also stand on its own, as well as being a continuation of Saber and Eiryn's adventures. For those of you not familiar with my other stories, check out my profile to read them.


	2. Chapter 2

Hortator of House Hlaalu

Chapter Two:

Eiryn entered the small house that had once been her father's home. After Caius Cosades had left for Cyrodil, recalled by the Emperor's order, he left them the apartment and a few items for Saber in the hopes he'd complete his quest to become the Nerevarine.

They had made the best of the small space, replacing nearly all of the furniture with new. A bed large enough for both of them took up most of the room, a small table with two chairs sat to the other corner, and what was left of space was a few modest chests to store their supplies in. The place was hardly considered a home, but more of a hole to crawl into when they needed rest.

In light of the recent attack of the Ash Ghoul, Saber chose to stay elsewhere for fear of Eiryn getting caught up in another fight with teleporting Sixth House members. Eiryn didn't like it, neither could she deny wanting to face one of those creatures. She still bore scars from a Dreamer attack in Hla Oad. If not for Saber shoving her out of the way, the mad cultist would've taken her head instead of hitting her shoulder.

Expectedly, her hero wasn't home. He no doubt left to speak to the House members at Hlaalu Manor at the west side of the city. The elf hinted at also having to go shopping, and by the time he returned, she knew why.

She almost didn't recognize him when the door opened.

The Dunmer had changed from the adventurer she saw the day before. Now Saber donned clothing of exquisite silks and velvets. Colors were of pale blues and lavender, with intricate threading at neck and sleeves. Gold ribbon ran along the cuffs, with embroidery embellishing the hem. He even wore his hair in the more traditional fashion of native House Dunmer, having most of the length pulled back from the face with the remaining length to fall down his back.

"Well? What do you think?" He had a lopsided grin on his face revealing he knew full well how he looked. The swagger of his step paused long enough for a dramatic turn on his heel. Arms spread out to either side for her to appreciate the new clothes. The finery further complimented his lean frame, the colors enhancing the stormy gray of the Dunmer's skin. He looked every bit a gentlemen.

Saber seemed as comfortable in worn out leather armor as he did in noble finery. The cocky attitude mixed with graceful elegance served to peak the sudden appeal she had for him. Damn, he was a good-looking mer! "You'd never recognize me, would you?"

No, Eiryn had to admit, he appeared vastly different from the thief she came to know. "Is this supposed to be a disguise?"

He shrugged. "Somewhat, but I can hardly meet with council members looking like riff raff off the street, now can I?" He straightened the collar, primping the delicate fabric. "If you're coming with me, we best get you a gown or something." He flashed another boyish grin, "Something low cut and snug at the waist."

Eiryn rolled her eyes. She'd wore a gown once before and found the experience remarkable. Men deferred to her, and people treated her better. She never knew how clothes could affect attention in that manner. It was unfortunate that she couldn't wear such outfits for her profession as a scout, but she'd never stay clean. And though she dressed better than she had before meeting Saber, she still found clothing needed to remain practical. She couldn't afford to keep replacing expensive pants and shirts.

"So what did they say at Hlaalu manor?" She changed the subject quickly.

Switching to business, Saber choose to take one of the seats, planting feet atop the opposite chair. Fingers knitted over his stomach in a casual, undignified manner. The illusion of nobility was lost. "Well, as you know the city of Balmora is considered the seat of House Hlaalu, but the members are currently away. I was told, I need to speak to a council member named Crassius Curio in Vivec-"

"The _city_ of Vivec?" Eiryn gasped, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Are you nuts?"

A brow arched. "I'm well aware of the dangers, Eiryn."

"Ordinators are not your average city watch, Saber." She told him.

He nodded, "Yes, I know that. Religious zealots, some might say."

"And you've been proclaimed a heretic-"

"I know that too."

By Azura's light, didn't the elf realize how dangerous this was going to get? He meant to go to the very heart of the Temple as a wanted fugitive! She tapped an impatient foot. "And if they catch you-"

"I will no doubt end up in the Ministry of Truth." He finished for her, remaining calm. His gaze remained steady, the deep wine of his eyes unblinking.

"To be tortured" Eiryn was finding her words had no effect on him whatsoever. "Or worse…"

"If they catch me."

Eiryn had to hold back her temper, but realization was getting obvious; he wasn't going to listen to reason. He rarely did. She growled in frustration, having to speak through clenched teeth. "That cocky attitude is going to get you into trouble."

"But it lends to my charm." Saber tilted his head when he smiled this time, giving a wink.

"House Dunmer do not care much for charm. And Ordinators care even less for Heretics." Eiryn suddenly tossed the leather cuirass at his feet in a sudden show of anger. "I would hope you'd at least have the common sense to wear armor if you insist upon going."

Saber was silent for a moment, contemplating the armor on the floor. Clearly, he knew how angry she'd become, but also knew the importance to become Hortator. "I'll be disguised." He spoke softly this time, at least giving her the benefit of doubt. "I doubt they will be looking for a nobleman, and if it will make you feel better, I can even cast invisibility while I move through the city."

He was trying to placate her, which was a surprise. Normally he'd do as he pleased, and ask for forgiveness later. She also knew he was compelled to go, regardless of the dangers. If he were save Morrowind from the Sixth House, he'd have to face the danger eventually. Somehow the thought didn't ease her temper. "It would help if you took this seriously."

Saber stood up and crossed the room in two strides. Now standing over her, he cupped his hand beneath her chin to force her gaze back up in his face. His red eyes caught hers, and his expression softened.

"Eiryn," He murmured, "More than anyone, I know how serious this is." His red gaze locked onto hers as if willing her to believe him. "I have no intention of getting caught by the Temple, but I _have_ to go to Vivec to speak to this Crassius Curio."

Eiryn pressed lips against the further protests she wanted to argue. She knew he was right, and yes, perhaps he was taking the whole thing seriously after all. Sometimes his playfulness belied the fierce warrior he could be. Sometimes it was difficult to take him serious. But she'd seen him fight, and his skills with the sword left no doubt the elf was a capable fighter. The ordeal they went through in the Ashlands however, left her uneasy. He almost died, several times in fact. Quest or not, she couldn't bear a life without him.

Eiryn reached up to clasp his hand to her own. "Well don't ask me to stop worrying." She warned him.

"I'd never ask the impossible." He replied, leaning forward to touch lips to her own.

-------------------

Eiryn wasn't entirely surprised when Saber suggested the next morning they meet in the city of Vivec. A few individuals knew that Saber often traveled with a scout. they were even well known in the city of Balmora. Why bring attention to themselves by traveling as a pair?

"I'll meet you in The Black Shaulk in the Foreign Quarter plaza." He told her as they prepared to leave. He wanted to travel by Mages Guild, leaving her the only option of Stilt strider. Saber could never shake his disgust over the 'huge bugs' the natives of Morrowind used for mass travel. They no longer made him physically sick, but he still avoided traveling by that means.

The journey to the city of Vivec was uneventful and boring. Eiryn was glad to see the huge pyramid structures loom from the misty shoreline of the Inner Sea. The salty wind blew against her face, causing the scout to take in a deep, relaxing breath. The thick smell of the ocean filled her nostrils.

She liked traveling to the various cities of Vvardenfell. She loved the change of scenery, even the wind would take on a new life. In some regions, the land was lush and speckled with flowers and trees. The Ashlands were dust, ash, and skeletal remains of trees. The coast cities carried the salty wind mixed with the scent of fish- usually. Not the city of Vivec. The holy city of Vivec was no fisherman village, but one of the largest, and by far, the most impressive metropolis Morrowind had to offer.

Taking pause on the Strider port, Eiryn shaded eyes from the noonday sun to look up. The pyramid structure known as a canton ascended to the sky by three levels. Each building was impressive, but the gathering of nine made the city of Vivec formidable indeed. The architecture was stone with inlaid carvings, consisting of brownish green contrasting with the livid green glass of the windows as the top. Huge flags swayed in the sea breezes, indicating the specific canton and what you might find there.

The Foreign Quarter was the first canton any non-Dunmer encountered. Here you'd find all the races intermingled with native inhabitants. Eight other similar pyramids housed those of the Dunmer houses as well as the city's mixed populace of human, elf, or beast races, but mostly you'd find Dark Elves. Sprinkled through the populous was the ominous presence of masked Ordinators.

Garbed in gold and purple chainmail, the city guards were also fierce zealots of the Temple. The expressionless masks hid the Dunmer beneath, but Eiryn could tell each and every one of them held distain for all but native Dunmer. It was in their voice, their stance, and their manner to which they often gave quick orders for people to move along.

Eiryn headed immediately to the upper levels of the Foreign Quarter. Here one would find a number of merchants catering to native and foreign alike. The lower levels had a clothing shop, a trader, a healer, and bookstore, while the upper levels had more unusual shops included an enchanter's shop and a bookstore known for its rare tomes. The topmost level consisted of a dome plaza lined in green glass with huge planters of luminous mushrooms and bright flowers. Here, the smith and crafter's shops catered to tourist and locals.

The Black Shaulk was easy to find, and easier to recognize. A large black beetle covered a woven tapestry at a door on the level known as The Waistworks. Shaulk were huge bugs found in the Ashlands, with huge mandibles and poisonous bite. Why someone would name a tavern after one was beyond Eiryn. After fighting only a few of these insect left the scout feeling the tavern would not be welcoming.

Upon entering, she found the assembled patrons sparse and unfriendly. Only a few bothered to take notice of her arrival, while most kept to their food and drink. Others openly gave disgusted looks of seeing 'another n'wah', never considering that she might have been born and raised in their land. Eiryn hadn't expected anything less, and choose to sit closest to the bar where she could watch the door.

The bar publican took her order for wine and Saltrice porridge. Eiryn only then considered that she could not risk asking about Saber's whereabouts in this place, not with the Ordinators looking for him. She cursed the situation, tapping impatient fingers on the counter. She was left with having to simply wait until he showed up.

As she considered options, she realized a sudden presence standing too close.

"Are you Eiryn Acques?" An accented voice interrupted her thoughts as Eiryn looked up from her drink. Standing almost immediately to her left was a Breton man. She flinched, taken aback at his closeness and low tone of voice. He also appeared to be an adventurer with worn leathers of Guar and Netch armor. Throwing stars dotted his chest, daggers were at wrists and thighs, and a short sword rested at his hip. His traveling pack sat at his feet.

He brushed back loose hair that fell over his eyes. The length of straight black was tied back with a string, but most threatened to work it way loose. Despite the ragged look about him, he had the most startling green eyes, and something was oddly familiar about him.

"Yes, I am Eiryn." She replied. Her mind raced into memories to find if she had met this man before. He carried the heritage of Breton to a cliché'. High cheekbones and narrow chin formed with arched brows. Eyes were expressive, famed in thick lashes, and rough stubble of beard marred the face already covered in road dust.

He leaned casually against the bar next to her, with a bent elbow and cocky posture of someone very confident with women. Clothes and armor were well worn, and weapons seemed to hang on every limb.

"You are looking for the heretic?" He asked, lowering his voice even more, at those eyes darted about to see if anyone would overhear them.

"Who?" Eiryn tried very hard not to reveal her eagerness in finding the elf. How would this man know anything? Perhaps he'd met Saber or heard a rumor.

"For a small fee, I could tell you where he is." The man told her. The lips pulled back in a quirky half grin.

A frown settled on her face, and a wall of distrust rose up between them. She shifted uncomfortably. Eiryn wondered if she should simply deny knowing Saber, but something in the man's tone and manner indicated he did in fact know where the elf had gone. "How much?"

"Being you look for a wanted criminal by the Temple?….I would say a modest fee of …" He looked away as if calculating but Eiryn knew he already had the amount in his mind before he approached her. "Fifty gold?"

She gaped, "_Fifty?_ For a possible lie?"

He cast her a look of indignation that she couldn't tell was pretended or not. "A lie? My dear woman, I am as honest as the sun rises each day." The man then shrugged, relaxing into his careless self-assured manner, "But I can tell you are not very good at this, so I will tell you where he is…if you give me a kiss."

"A _what?"_ Eiryn nearly fell off her chair at his price.

"A kiss." He grinned. "You see, if I lie than all you've lost is a kiss, and I would imagine a woman as lovely as you are have plenty of kisses to her measure."

"How dare-?"

He lifted a gloved hand with the index finger pointed at her face, "Ah, before you rant further my dear lady, consider your situation." He let his words settle her ruffled feathers before continuing. "A kiss is a small price to find this wanted man, is it not? After all, he might be suffering in the Ministry of Truth, or lost in some tomb beneath in the city. You might never know-"

Eiryn bristled. "I still might never know," She spat in sudden anger, "Even if I _do_ kiss you. Now get away from me."

The Breton man snickered a laugh, spreading a hand across his chest dramatically. "You wound my pride. All I ask is a kiss. Surely it is a small thing to ask?"

"And do you ask this of all the women that come into the Black Shaulk or am I just the lucky one?" Eiryn snapped at him. The nerve this man had to take advantage of her situation was detestable.

He shrugged, "You're the only woman looking for the heretic." He pointed out, "Besides," He added, leaning a bit so only she could hear, "I thought you were good at finding people."

His words took her off guard. Did he know her? Se had no memory of meeting such a man as this. "What?"

"Finding people." He repeated. The voice changed into something even more familiar. "Perhaps he went to Suran, to Desele's House of Earthly Delights?"

Eiryn opened her mouth to tell him to leave again, but his gaze held her own. She looked at him again, this time finding abrupt and disbelieving recognition. Matched with his knowledge she'd met Saber in Desele's House of Earthly Delights, she stared in shock at what couldn't' possibly be,

"Saber?"

The man's grin widened.

How-?

Her eyes raked over him, trying to see beyond the obvious illusion he was holding. Now she could see the familiar bone structure in his face, with high cheekbones, and small chin. No longer did he have the stormy gray skin or deep eyes of burgundy red. She realized the shade of green was much to her own, and his hair was the same glossy black as his color. The brows and lashes were also the same hue, with the same smug grin on his face. Only his race had changed.

"How-?"

He responded by pulling off one of the leather gloves to reveal various rings. One was the unmistakable Moon-and-Star, which only the Nerevarine himself could wear, and another bauble she hadn't seen before was a large ruby inset with silver.

"Its only temporary." He told her, eyes darted back and forth to see if anyone might notice the ring of the Incarnate. No one had. "So I suggest you meet me downstairs in the room I rented."

Note from author: I had the scene of his using illusion in mind for another story of Saber for some time. After all, Nekros had often used them to move about undeterred. You'd imagine his former apprentice would do the same (Read Enduring or Challenges to find out more about Nekros). I thought Morrowind underplayed the whole aspect of your character being a Heretic. You'd think the Temple would be trying to find him with fervor. I wanted a reason as to why they were having trouble finding him. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. )


	3. Chapter 3

Three- 'Uncle' Crassius Curio

Following Saber to the rented room on a lower level of the Black Shaulk, Eiryn couldn't help but stare at the illusion of his being Breton. She could now recognize how much like his original elven heritage and appearance remained, but the spell simply changed his race. No more pointed ears, no red eyes, and no stormy gray skin. He remained the same height, maintaining his lean frame and easy grace. Hair remained the same glossy black, and the lips still fell so easily into a cocky smirk. Even knowing he was Saber, however, left Eiryn feeling like she was seeing a whole new person.

"That was a cruel trick to play on me." She told him, feigning annoyance. "I nearly slapped you."

Saber shut the door behind them and closed his eyes. Only a brief sparkle of magic, and he returned to the Dark Elf she knew so well. The green eyes now staring back at her were now a deep burgundy. "I had to know if you could recognize me."

"My slapping you wouldn't have proved one way or another. I slap you all the time." Eiryn pointed out.

"True enough, and each time is well deserved." He replied, setting his things to the floor. He began unpacking items, including the clothes he'd purchased earlier as well as new bundles of clothing. When he tossed a bundle towards her, Eiryn found he bought her something new.

"A dress?"

"Your disguise." The Dunmer wiggled brows at her.

She shook out the material and had to admit, Saber had excellent taste in clothing. The gown consisted of deep green velvet with gold embroidered web work around the waist and flared sleeves. The waist was snug, with sleeves dropping of the shoulders and held together by ribbons. A panel of white silk went from the neckline to flowing skirt, also hemmed in gold ribbon. A pair of velvet and gold shoes tumbled from the parcel, matching her gown.

"This is too much." Eiryn murmured, caressing the softness of the material.

"Trust me," Saber replied. He began to undress to switch to the nicer, more refined outfit. "Where we'll be going, you'd stick out like a sore thumb amid the nobles of the Great Houses." He paused to tilt his head and squint at her. "Then again, you still might stick out. I'd hate to have to fend off every male who looks upon you. With that dress, I'd be hard pressed not to stare myself."

Cheeks grew hot, and Eiryn turned away before he could take notice. Saber flattered her more than any man she'd known. Part of her craved the attention; the practical, no-nonsense part felt such things foolish. Her heart fluttered every time he flirted with her, making her feel silly. Despite the months of being together, his words, a quick brush of lips against skin, or sometimes just a meaningful look left her heart fluttering.

"But what am I to do?" She asked, pushing aside her reaction to him. "You certainly don't need me around to talk politics to council members."

"You're just for decoration." He teased, "But I'll understand if you don't want to go. I know _I_ don't want to go."

Eiryn knew how much he detested politics. He rankled at any form of authority, having given the spymaster of the Blades an endless amount of grief. Arathor of the thieves' guild also revealed Saber had joined the guild for the sole purpose of paying off bounties, nothing more. He'd moved up several ranks without a thought, and cared even less for title or position.

Saber finished dressing, choosing his original purple and gold satins. The shirt was high necked, and tight around his lithe waist. Ribbons of fabric made up the sleeves that puffed at shoulders. With his already prominent elegance in bone structure, he looked every bit the noble. "I could always use an extra pair of ears and eyes when I go as well. You might catch something I might miss."

The scout considered a moment then began to remove her travel worn clothes. He might be humoring her, knowing how much she hated being left behind. Then again, she'd certainly feel better at his side rather than finding out later what danger he might find. "I suppose you could use an extra sword, in case you run into trouble."

"Trouble? Me?" Eyes were wide in pretended innocence. After a brief chuckle, his eyes raked her with a heated gaze. "Besides, where are you going to put a sword?"

Her cheeks flared red once again knowing he watched her slip the gown on. No doubt, he appreciated the snug fit at her waist and bosom. His unblinking stare was enough to make her whole body tingle. "I'll slip a knife beneath the skirt."

Saber made an odd sound in his throat, as if holding back a rude remark and she threw a sharp, warning glare in his direction. He backed off with an easy laugh. "I doubt we'll need weapons. If anything should go wrong, we teleport out. We can meet at the Imperial Shrine. Agreed?"

Eiryn was grateful Saber had no qualms with making a good retreat than taking a bad stand, especially here in the city of Vivec. Should something go wrong, any fight would involve the Temple Ordinators. If not killed outright, Saber would face the Ministry of Truth. This meant torture most likely until he conferred to their way of thinking. "Agreed."

Saber cast the spell of illusion once more, transforming from the familiar Dunmer thief to a Breton noble. She found herself staring once more, but was soon distracted by a number of Ordinators that seemed to be patrolling the cantons.

"Stop fidgeting." He murmured, patting her hand curled around his arm. They strolled in a relaxed pace through the plaza in the St. Olms canton. The vaulted ceiling was high domed. Windows above cast a green hue over the dark stone walls, mixing with the blues of luminous mushrooms dotting the public area in large planters.

"I can't help it." She whispered back. "They are staring."

Not everyone, of course, stared. Among the throng of mixed races, many donned the same expensive clothing showing House or merchant's guild. The handful of Ordinators, however, made her nervous. You couldn't see their faces due to the gold masks of their helms, but to her eye, she felt they were being watched.

"We just a Breton couple, out for a stroll." Saber reasoned. Both manner and tone indicated he wasn't concerned, perhaps even accustomed to playing such ruses. He didn't look at her as he spoke, preferring to read the shop's signs, or give a friendly nod to a passerby. Only the slight tension in his arm revealed he was ready to run at a moment's notice. "Ah there is the Curio manor."

Eiryn arched a doubtful brow, finding the squat structure a bit unassuming for being a manor of a council member. Somehow, she expected something bigger, something more grand than the building before her. "This is it?"

Saber opened the door for her, sweeping an arm to bid her enter. Just as she passed, he murmured. "Into the lion's maw."

One of the House Retainers met them at the door. Dressed much like Saber in extravagant cloth, the Dunmer woman donned green and eggshell blue satins. She wore hair in a coif atop her head. High brows pinched her face into suspicion when she gave them a once over.

Eiryn nearly squawked in surprised as she realized Saber had shed the illusion at the door, and what made matters worse, he offered his true name! His grip upon her hand tightened at the sound of her gasp, reassuring he knew what he was doing.

The woman assessed him with doubt clear in her brilliant eyes, "The one claiming he is Nerevarine?"

Again, Eiryn tensed, almost pulling away from Saber to make a hasty retreat. Saber held her still. "Tell Muthsera Curio I need to speak to him."

After a pause, the woman gave a curt nod. "Follow me."

Both of them followed the woman further into the manor to wait for audience with Councilman Crassius Curio. Apparently, the interior was a bit more extensive than what the outside appeared. Room after room housed fine glass and intricate rugs. Expensive desks of imported wood matched the bookcases and chairs, etched in the same elven design of gold inlay.

Other members of the House also fell into staring at the two as they progressed through the manor. Eiryn had to wrestle the need to run under control, reminded with the subtle touch of Saber keeping her in line.

"Wait here." The woman ordered, leaving them in a waiting room. She disappeared into an adjoining room and low voices murmured back and forth.

"Why did you give your name?" Eiryn whispered to Saber. "And what of your illusion?"

He shifted his weight, still relaxed and calm in light of where they were. "I've come to be named Hortator. I think they would figure out who I was soon enough. An honest approach might show my true intention."

His words seemed reasonable enough, but Eiryn still wanted to run.

A voice chirped from beyond the closed door. "So what are you waiting for, woman! Bring him in at once!"

The portal opened at the disgruntled Dunmer woman who gave a nod for them to enter the room. Eiryn had to force herself to take slow breaths as her heart fluttered wildly in rising fear. What if this was a trap? What if House Hlaalu were not as favorable as they believed?

Entering the room revealed only the councilman, and she stiffened in surprise.

Crassius Curio wasn't as tall as she imagined, being a stout Imperial with hooded brown eyes and matching hair. Balding, Crassius Curio kept his remaining hair cropped short in a more Imperial style. Though not close to going gray as yet, creases around the eyes showed he was a man who was beginning to weather his age. A soft belly indicated the softer life he lived than his more adventurous counterparts. On his stocky frame, the extended stomach further added to an appearance of one accustomed to the easy life.

"Ah," The man smiled, eyes sparkled. Hands extended to clasp Saber's, making a point to turn and view the famed Moon-and-Star radiant against the Dunmer's dusky skin. The ring glowed in the dim light. A half moon encircled a golden star…."The Nerevarine…"

Saber shrugged, making light of titles. He gave a gentle tug to retrieve his hand from the man's grasp before speaking. "So you know why I've come to speak to you?'

"Of course." Crassius nodded, sliding his gaze from Saber to Eiryn. "But who is this delicious creature?"

Eiryn saw the Dunmer visibly stiffen. "This is Eiryn Acques, my scout and companion." The tone left no doubt his disapproval of the man's attention.

"Lovely…" Crassius murmured, before returning his attention back to the Dark Elf before him. The soft brown eyes, flecked in amber took a moment too long in appraising the Dunmer before him. Eiryn couldn't help but notice the widening of pupils or the quick flick of a tongue moisten lips. "And I must say, you're nothing what I expected."

"Oh?"

Eiryn couldn't tell if Saber was aware of the councilman's sudden interest. The Imperial was relaxed, completely at ease within his own manor. But the intensity of his stare, the flicker of his gaze that drew up and down the tall Dunmer, left her uneasy. Seems the stories about him were true after all. A decadent man, they said, with a less than gifted flair for the theater, and a taste for both men and women.

Crassius motioned them to take seats at a small table in the narrow room. He preferred to stand, taking a sudden interest in his fingernails as he spoke. "I was told…or rather warned…that you might approach me. The Temple has named you a heretic, but House Hlaalu avoids extremist views. We follow the Imperial practice of tolerance." His gaze turned coy beneath lashes, and the lips twisted into a crooked smile. "I suppose I was expecting a hardened criminal, or at best an adventurer ten feet tall and donning glass armor."

Saber tilted his head slightly, not understanding his meaning.

The councilman chuckled. "By the stories surrounding you, they seem to say you're larger than life, a reputable hero to some, a bane to others."

"Stories?" Even Eiryn had to consider what rumor might have reached the Great Houses at this point. She'd heard very little, being she remained at his side.

"The bandits in Suran? A necromancer in Dagon Fel?" Crassius folded arms across his chest. "Not to mention a missing wizard's staff, and solving a murder in Balmora. I heard you rescued a woman from a Daedric shine- None of these stories ring a bell?"

Eiryn gaped at Saber, incredulous that he'd done so much without a single word from him, but then he was never one to boast. He cast a quick and awkward glance in her direction before regaining his stiff posture. He gave a slow sigh before speaking.

"As you know," Saber was choosing his words carefully, "Many stories are certainly exaggerated, while others hold no proof."

"You didn't rescue a woman?" The councilman seemed pleased to know so much.

The Dunmer scowled, "I let her follow me back to the city-"

"The necromancer-"

"Got in my way." Saber replied curtly.

"The wizard's staff?"

Eiryn almost laughed at the thief's sudden stiffness. "I believe a young thief in Balmora had done that deed, or said as such. Nothing of which was proven."

"Ah," Crassius nodded, "I see."

"And I haven't come to you to discuss stories." Saber added, switching to the quest at hand.

"Yes, yes. You want to know how to be named Horator." Prompted by Saber's nod, the councilman clasped hands together and grinned. "A Horator must be unanimously voted by council members of each great House. Generally, such a person is named during times of war, being a paragon of bravery, taking on dangerous quests, and facing death without a twitch of an eye." His smile widened, pleased with his drama. Eiryn had heard he was a self-proclaimed playwright as well and could now see why. "Such a thing is no easy task, and I can tell you Master Dren does not want you to be Horator. The other councilors will no doubt baulk not wishing to rise the ire of Dren's disapproval."

Eiryn was beginning to see why Saber hated politics so much. Regardless of their willingness to take on Dagoth Ur, the council members would still hold dear to their prejudices of outlanders. They would refuse him the title of Horator simply because he was not born on the lands of Morrowind. The whole situation was ludicrous. They were facing House Dagoth's inevitable confrontation to all of the Houses, and yet all they could see is Saber was foreigner.

Crassius' mouth spread into an odd little smile. "But I'm prompted to risk his disapproval…"

Saber's surprise was evident. That was too easy…

"I have something to ask you." The councilman said, knitting fingers together as if pleading. Saber didn't seem surprised. He'd often complained how everyone wanted something from. Small quests, or having someone killed seemed to be the going rate for favors in Morrowind. This would be no different-

"I might be convinced to give you my vote…for…a kiss."

Ok, Eiryn frowned, this would be a bit different after all. Even she hadn't expected that.

"A…_kiss_?" Saber asked, glancing back at Eiryn to see if he'd heard right. "A kiss for your vote?'

For a brief moment, Eiryn thought she could read his mind. Surely, the Nerevarine would prefer to battle monsters or the undead than to give into this man's perversions. The rumors she'd heard of 'Uncle Crassius' seemed to ring true. Some even whispered the man's depravity extended to beast races, or just plain beasts. Her skin crawled, as she shifted in her seat. It was all she could do to not blurt out her thoughts. The idea of coercing someone's affection was appalling.

"Or you can go by the usual path of persuasion." Crassius told him. "I would accept a bribe of…oh let's see…about 1000 gold. Either gift would get you much the same result."

"And no doubt the others…" Saber spat, a hand absently touching his coin purse. Eiryn could only guess he was estimating how much he had and was going to need for this venture. "The other councilors, will also want…gifts."

"Of gold." Crassius corrected, "I doubt they'd…._appreciate_ you as much as I do."

Eiryn wanted to kick him. Though she never knew the amount of coin Saber had, she knew the cost was in excess, especially if he was to bribe his way into everyone's vote. Politics! Oblivion take them all!

"Fine." Saber snapped.

His answer startled her. Eiryn had supposed he'd pay the gold, and she stared...dumbfounded. Red eyes shifted in her direction and his mouth tightened in displeasure. Standing, he drew back shoulders, and gave her a sidelong glance.

"Its just a kiss." He muttered under his breath.

Well…true…And he needed the vote-

"Excellent!" Crassius clapped hands, leaning forward. Lips puckered and Saber couldn't help but grimace. Eiryn could see his wanting to draw back. The offer was a bit too tempting however. A kiss for the vote for Horator? No doubt the Dunmer considered saving 1000 gold for such a simple task, no matter how abhorrent.

The kiss was barely that, only a light brush of lip against lip. Just as quickly, Saber withdrew and continued to glare daggers at the councilman.

"Ah," Crassius grinned, pleased with his win or perhaps enjoying the manipulations of another. "You've made me a happy man. Now I will give you some sound advice." He motioned for Saber to return to his seat, while moving to pick up a leather bound book. The bound leather was dyed pale yellow, with the symbol of his House branded on the cover." This is the book of councilors. Within its pages, you will find every councilor listed and accounted for, as well as the tedium of board meetings and tax information." A hand waved in the air, dismissing the superfluous facts. "Dram Bero, however, might be a bit difficult to find. No one seems to know where he is, so ask around. Yngling Half-Troll is a foreigner like me, a Nord to be exact. Obnoxious fellow and has no inkling in dealing with local Dunmer like I do. If you kill him, no one will miss him-" Crassius chuckled, "Though by no means am I saying to do so."

"Of course…" Saber murmured, already engrossed within the pages of the book. "And Orvas Dren?"

"Ah yes…Dren." Crassius pleasantries faded like the sun before the storm. "He does not want you to be Horator. He also has Nevena Ules and Velanda Omani in his pocket, so you have no chance to gain their votes without his say so. On the other hand, by the Grace of the Nine, should you get his vote, they would fall right in line."

Eiryn knew this was not good news. The Dren family was powerful in Morrowind. The Duke of Vvardenfell was Orvas Dren's brother, and their power extended a long arm into the Great Council in Ebonheart. Some whispered that Dren had ties with the Morag Tong Assassin's guild, which would explain the level of intimidation he held sway over others. He couldn't very well just go to Dren's plantation and kill him outright. Saber's 'destiny' was going to be tougher than she thought.

In addition, how was he to get enough bribe money to gain votes if he decided to take that route? In this, Eiryn was out of her element.

"This is so exciting," Crassius commented with relished glee. "A true-to-life hero here at _my_ manor! Surely, you'll be wanting to stay to dine-?"

Saber was already shaking his head to the negative. "Other matters take precedent." He replied simply, no doubt wanting to leave the man's presence as soon as possible.

"Ah…yes," The councilman couldn't hide his disappointment. "Of course, I understand. Another time, perhaps?"

Glad the meeting was coming to a close, Eiryn was already heading for the door, knowing Saber followed.

"And Muthsera…?" Crassius called after him, speaking only when he had Saber's attention once more. A slow, crooked smile played on his mouth. "I truly enjoyed meeting you."

"Likewise…" Saber replied without enthusiasm. He turned to give Eiryn a gentle nudge to encourage her out the door. She barely heard him when they took their exit. "S'wit…"

Note from author: Sorry this took so long to be released. I was totally and completely caught in the Oblivion beam The new game in the Elder Scrolls series is the BEST game I've seen! The graphics, the quests, pretty much everything about it screams at 'high-end gaming experience'...but I digress.

The notorious 'kiss' Crassius asks of you in the game left with the same choice as Saber in this story. Pay the money, or give in? Being he already tried much the same method in the last chapter with Eiryn playing a ruse on her, I figured he'd opt to save his money for bribes further on. "It's just a kiss" after all. Thank Vivec Crassius didn't want any tongue right? lol


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Chronicles

"You're quiet." Saber commented as they headed out of the canton and into the darkening sky. He now wore the illusion of being Breton once again, having lost any semblance of being Dunmer, let alone the cocky thief. The eyes of livid green watched her with growing concern, his manner somber.

"Just thinking." Eiryn continued to walk with deliberate steps, heading across one of the bridges that led from one canton to another. She took note he was very attractive as a Breton, and felt somewhat guilty in reacting to him this way. Part of her knew that she loved who he was, not his race. Nonetheless, this spell's effects were oddly exotic to her. Brushing aside the need to stare, she continued to walk. They needed to get to an inn, and assess their funds before he took this quest of bribing.

"Are you…bothered?" To her surprise, Eiryn found her companion unable to meet her gaze when she looked back at him. At first she considered he'd seen her thoughts on her face, somehow knowing the mix of guilt she felt. She realized he felt self-conscious about the kiss. Pausing for a moment, she contemplated her answer, she found accepting the action for what it was. What would she have done if given the same choice?

"You did what you had to do." She replied simply.

Eiryn heard the slight sigh of breath, more of a release of pent up frustration. "I could've given him gold." The tone was disgusted, his step longer as if he wanted to run or at least leave the St. Olms canton behind.

"A thousand gold for a kiss is a lot of coin." Eiryn pointed out to him. "And its as you said; its just a kiss."

He gave a soft snort of disdain. "Just a kiss? You refused to give a kiss when the rogue in the bar demanded one as payment."

_Oh…yeah_, she felt her cheeks grow hot as he made his point. What she hadn't told him was how close she had considered taking the offer.

"And I feel the same amount of disgust to _Sera_ Crassius as I would that obnoxious rogue. Coercing affection for favors is pathetic." Eiryn explained. An idea came to her, making her flash a sudden smile at him. "But I must admit, I _had_ been tempted. That scoundrel was by far more handsome than that old stick."

She took note the tightening of his mouth to prevent the smile that he no doubt held back. "Should I be jealous?"

Eiryn looked him up and down, admiring the familiarity of his stance. She knew beneath the silks of satins was a lean, graceful form of a fighter, a man in top form for whatever life threw at him. Breton or Dunmer couldn't hide the familiar lines of his face, or what she knew was within his heart. Remembering their many breathless nights together made her suddenly very flushed. "This rogue is definitely giving the Nerevarine a run for his money."

A smile finally spread across his face, releasing the tension between them. "So, you like this illusion, eh?" He coiled an arm around her waist to draw her closer against him. "I could keep the spell going long enough for…other purposes." Brows wiggled with intent.

Eiryn huffed in indignation. "No doubt, something very nefarious!"

"You know me too well." Saber murmured with a crooked smile. A gentle tug brought arms around her waist to draw her closer against him. She welcomed the embrace, the familiar scent and warmth. Lips met with a gentle touch, not demanding or asking for anything more than a bit of affection.

"Move along." A gruff voice startled both of them as a city Ordinator stood too close. The impressive guardsmen seemed taller with the plumed helmet. The armored mask made the guard's intent unreadable, but the hand resting on a curved blade could not be misread as anything other than a subtle warning.

Eiryn nearly panicked save for the meaningful squeeze of her hand from Saber. It was a subtle reminder to her they were being asked to move their romantic moment to some place more appropriate. She forced a giggle, not having to pretend embarrassment.

"C'mon, love." Saber chuckled, tugging her towards the Foreign Quarter. "This is not the place for this."

Eiryn let herself be dragged along, daring to glance over her shoulder. The guard remained where he was, seemingly watching their retreat. The stoic figure grew smaller as they made their way over the network of bridges and walkways. "I don't like this." She whispered, worried the guard would follow. "What if he suspected something?"

Saber followed her gaze, but shrugged away concern. "Suspected what? We're a happy couple sneaking a moment's affection. What's there to suspect?"

The sun was setting to the far west, casting a fire in the clouds to the horizon. Colors of red, orange and pink intermingled in the constant haze off the Oceanside. The blazing colors interrupted the darkening blue of approaching night. It made for a splendid scene with the city of Vivec as a backdrop. Almost, Eiryn thought wryly, making for a very romantic evening.

A wafting breeze rustled her hair, tickling the loose strands across her face. Saber brushed it aside to trail fingers along her jaw line. He smiled, "You look lovely in this light."

A rude snort was her usual answer. She didn't believe she was that pretty compared to the other women Saber had been with. Only briefly did she allow herself to wonder why he'd chosen _her_ to be with, but then quickly brushed the self-doubt aside. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" He grinned.

"Try to flatter me."

"Why wouldn't I flatter you? It's the truth."

Again, she made a noise in her throat, taking longer strides as they neared the Foreign Quarter's main entrance. "Because you don't have to."

Saber drew her back up into his arms as they entered the narrow hallway of the canton's darkened interior. Only torchlight gave them light to see by. He easily slipped close, pressing up against her to force her to remain. His soft mouth found hers, touching a light but insistent kiss upon her lips. When he drew back, Eiryn felt as though she might stumble from weakened knees.

"I know I don't have to." He whispered, steadying her with a wicked grin. He knew how she responded to him. "But you should be more gracious and simply accept the sincerity of my praise." Hands cupped her face, forcing her to look into his eyes, unusually green. "I admire your beauty, your grace, and your warrior's heart."

When she tried to tug free, not wanting to hear more, he laughed, "This is the part where you smile kindly and give me a passionate kiss."

"Ah yes," Eiryn sighed, "To swoon in your arms."

He let her go this time, following back through the warren of hallway to the Black Shalk inn. "I see I still need to teach you a few things." He spoke to her back. It was an old joke they had, of a time they first met. She'd found him in a brothel, having been ordered to have him return, posthaste, to Balmora by command of the Blades' spymaster. She ended up staying the night, enamored and intrigued with the rakish elf. He'd proposed to train her in methods of handling men in brothels, and she hadn't regretted taking him up on his offer.

"Such as?" The woman didn't even bother looking back, taking the lead as well as the door when they reached the inn. He couldn't see her curious smirk.

Saber remained at her heels. "Let's wait until we get to our room."

------------

Saber stared at the coin pouch and knew by the size alone he didn't have enough gold to bribe the needed council members. He doubted very much he could even carry enough gold to be necessary for this quest, and this weighed heavily on his thoughts. An assessment of all his possessions showed a sorted mix of soul gems that might bring more funds, and if he sold the scroll spells he kept at hand, he _might_…and that was a big might…have enough.

A quick glance to the bed told him Eiryn slept peacefully amid the pillows. Memories of their tryst lightened his mood as the Nerevarine moved to sit on the edge of the bed large enough to sleep two. He wouldn't stay of course, being Dagoth might send another one of minions as he slept. He'd not put Eiryn in that kind of danger. A simple 'mark' spell to this spot would have him arrive in timely fashion after he found someplace else to stay the night.

He found the young woman asleep on her side, hands folded beneath her chin and hair splayed over the sheet. She was a picture of serene repose. Unable to help himself, Saber leaned close to kiss her lightly on a cheek. Damn the Sixth House for leaving him in the back woods of Vvardenfell or the sewers to avoid his minions! He wanted nothing more than to be with Eiryn for the whole night. Blasted Dagoth…

Giving a quiet sigh of resignation, he gathered his things and headed back into the maze of hallways. He'd head to the lower levels, searching the underground waterways and sewers, perhaps to find a strategic place to sleep. Dagoth's Ash Ghouls were still finding him whenever he was within city walls, reminding the Dunmer that anyone could be suspect to falling into his cult. Someone had to be giving his presence away. He had to be more diligent with who he spoke to.

Thoughts drifted to the more demanding quest of bribing councilors. War was at hand with the Sixth House and all the Dunmer Great Houses were concerned with was profit and power. Saber made a small disgusted hiss as he entered the sewers, hearing the sound reverberate back to him. The sounds of rats were also close. They were of little concern as he gathered magic to a globe of fire. Fireballs were not exactly subtle in handling vermin, but the burst of light and fire was satisfying his surly mood.

When the squeaks finally quieted, Saber found a dead end to which he laid out a bedroll. The city of Vivec didn't really have terribly bad sewers for the city of its size. Fresh seawater flowed beneath to carry out the muck and stink. Only a heady smell of fish permeated the dank waterways. The hollow echo of sound would be enough to waken him if anything should try to approach.

The Nerevarine settled to sleep, folding an arm behind his head as a pillow. Again, thoughts drifted to his task, and contemplations were for the early morning. He'd seek out Dram Bero first, having already suspected where the councilman had hidden himself. A haunted house was located in the St. Olms Plaza. Saber doubted a councilman would dare enter the sewers of all places to hide from his enemies, but neither could he actually leave the city without someone taking notice. No, a haunted house might be just the spot.

Yngling Half-Troll was another story. Saber had too often been the brunt of a Nord's wrath, being of a race that carried old memories of wars gone by. Nords had invaded Vvardenfell from the North, and the mead-drinking barbarians were not exactly warm to the more dark hearted elves of Morrowind. Then again, the Dunmer of Morrowind didn't warm up to anyone that was non-Dunmer.

They won't even accept a Dunmer who is a foreigner…Saber tried not to spend too much thought on that. Being he had to somehow unite the Great Houses seemed a daunting task, but he quickly reminded himself he'd made Nerevarine of the Tribes. He hadn't even thought that possible. Even now, remembering the tasks given to him led him to think that perhaps he was blessed by Azura after all.

He lifted his hand to gaze at the low glow of his ring. The Moon and Star…He hadn't told Eiryn that the spirit of Lord Nerevar seemed ever closer to him now. Flashes of memories not of his own plagued his dreams. Sometimes he felt confused to who and what he was. As he was further drawn into the politics, he felt his reactions and thoughts were not of his own, but of Indoril Nerevar, the heroic general that had died thousands of years prior.

Not a scant six months ago, Saber had no care of Morrowind, its people, nor of its problems. Now he felt this was his home, his people, his destiny- The Dunmer scowled, shaking free of that thought. No, not my destiny….Nerevar's…. He glared at the ring, wondering if he tossed it into the waterways beneath the city if he'd be free of this so-called Fate.

I doubt it, he thought darkly. Even then, with the ring gone, would that release him from the mantle of Nerevarine. He knew the answer, knowing the path set before him was not one of choice anymore. The ancient soul of Nerevar was reborn when he placed the ring upon his finger. Some might argue that Saber had always been the Nerevarine, but only recently had come to realize this.

"It doesn't mean I have to like it." Saber muttered to himself, hearing his voice echo back to him. The weight of his future fell full upon him.

It was going to be a long night.

Note: I know the chapter is short, and not really going anywhere, but I felt compelled to touch base to the character of Saber and where his thoughts lie. Writing has been hit or miss, with other stories demanding attention, and my studying for A+ certification has also effected my time to write. Bear with me; I will try to move along with the story as best I can.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: The past to present

Eiryn wasn't surprised to find the bed empty when she awoke the next morning. Since attacked by the Ash ghoul, Saber took precautions to avoid further interruptions of sleep. No doubt, this was for her safety more than his own, and normally she'd baulk at the constraints. This time, however, the young scout had to admit his decision eased her unsettled nerves a bit. Knowing one was to be attacked in the middle of the night by some creature made sleep nearly impossible.

Eiryn dressed in simple travel garb consisting of matching pants with a tunic of warm green, leather armor completed her outfit with cuirass, greaves, and boots. Her sword buckled at her hip, her bow she opted to leave behind for the day. Not that she expected too much trouble in the City of Vivec, but one always needed to be prepared. She settled in the main dining area of the Black Shaulk, to wait for Saber. This was getting to be a habit of hers, one she didn't particularly like. Waiting, worrying, and being backup in case he needed it; that was her role to the Nerevarine. Ordering breakfast of Saltrice porridge with bread, she ate slowly, keeping her eye on the door should he arrive.

Other patrons began to pour inside the windowless inn, ordering food and drink. Conversations were thick with rumors and current events. The land of the Dark Elves had always been one of strife, but Eiryn realized word of Saber being the Nerevarine was the topic of most conversation. The mood was grave, more so than usual.

"Yet another Nerevarine come to save us." A Dunmer woman spoke to her companions, her tone droll. By her dress, she was the local fighter's guild. Hair was shaded an unusual auburn that only brought the red eyes to an odd orange-red hue. The mass was kept up in a tight bun with only two braids along her face for ornamentation. The feminine style contrasted with the bonemold armor she wore, having the cuirass and greaves rattling every time she moved. Her companions, an Orc male and female Bosmer, leaned close to hear her gossip. "The legend speaks that he will tear the Temple apart."

"I thought he was supposed to fight Dagoth Ur or something like that?" The Bosmer frowned in confusion, clearly not understanding the story. Honey blond hair was flipped back over a shoulder, with bangs hovering above large brown eyes. As a Wood elf, she appeared younger than Eiryn, but could possibly be well over 100 years of age.

The Orc grunted in agreement, "He's already united the Ashlander Tribes I heard tell, preparing for war." Words were punctuated with thick fists clenching as if wanting the heavy axe strapped to his broad back. Knotted hair was wound in a topknot to the crown of his head, with beads and bangles hanging off a row of braids. The low brow furrowed deeper, thick brows meeting in concern.

"Oh my," The Wood Elf gasped, eyes widening. "That doesn't bode well. Do you suppose the tribes will rise up against the Temple?"

The Dunmer woman gave a chuckle at their ignorance, "He's nothing more than a pretender. We get them every now and then, but they only go so far. I heard of another Nerevarine in Suran ranting to anyone who can hear." She tapped a finger against the table to emphasize her words. "Mark my words, my friends, the Temple will silence him soon enough."

Eiryn had heard of others claiming to be the Nerevarine, some mad with religious rhetoric while others seemed to be sincere in their quest. The recent "Nerevar" was said to be in Suran, spouting to any who will listen how he will drive 'the foreign dogs from the land of the Dunmer'. Eiryn knew the Temple would deal with him for such a claim made him a heretic, just as Saber was. The young scout wasn't sure if she felt sorry for him, or they'd give him a chance to step off this dangerous path.

Her Orc friend shrugged, baring tusks. "If he's the true legend, I doubt the Temple will do much of anything."

"He's N'wah." The Dunmer woman insisted, "I heard he's from the Imperial prison, a thief in the Emperor's employ. No, the Temple will not tolerate him."

"But if he's trying to fight against Dagoth-" The Bosmer started to say, silenced by a replying glare.

"And once he does that, what do you suppose he'll do?" The Dunmer woman challenged her, flashing red eyes. Her brows pinched upon a dusky brow. "The legend says he'll crush the Temple, then drive the foreigners out of Morrowind. Foreigners, my friends, which are you."

"You as well, Bralin." The Orc pointed out with a wicked grin, showing more of his teeth against the green skin. He was a huge creature, bald with scars and wrinkles mapping his face, made worse when he tried to smile. "Don't think your kinsmen welcome you any more than the rest of us. I heard they call you N'wah as well."

The Dunmer woman shifted uneasily, taking that moment to sip her drink. When she finished, she gave a casual shrug, "Nonetheless, this business of the Nerevarine bodes ill for us all. If he is Nerevar reborn, then war is at hand and possible slaughter. If he isn't, then we still have a war and even more slaughter."

Eiryn found her porridge lost all flavor at those words. _War_…such a small word but carrying vast meaning. Either path meant death for either side of the Temple, the Empire, or civilians. Not that she believed Saber would do anything to drive out foreigners, but that his rise to power might prove even more dangerous than she had thought before. They'll kill him, she thought darkly, pushing her bowl away. She guessed there might be possible civil war as well.

Nevertheless, he had united the Tribes against all odds, hadn't he? As the adventurers moved on, Eiryn swirled the porridge in thought, watching the mixture form peaks and valleys with her spoon. Perhaps the Dunmer's greatest strength right now was they were _not_ united. Each Great House was much like the Tribes, divided and looking after their own interest. All Saber need to do, is play on that, focusing on what they needed to fulfill each quest at a time. One step at a time…

Unfortunately, with dealing with the Great Houses meant bribes and most likely death. In House Televani, killing one's rival was as common as eating breakfast. The young scout smiled ruefully to herself. They probably gave murder as much consideration as well.

"Two down," A voice interrupted her thoughts, "Three to go…"

She found Saber, wearing his Breton illusion once again. Hair remained glossy black, bound away from his face. Green eyes instead of red wine looked back with self pride. Eiryn tried not to stare, still finding it hard to believe that he was Dunmer beneath the illusion.

He take a seat across from her, hooking a stool with an agile foot. He looked tired, his humor forced. "What?" She asked.

He pointed to her bowl. "Are you going to eat that?" Before she could answer, he took a mouthful and swallowed. Through mouthfuls, he continued to speak. "I haven't eaten breakfast. I've been in St. Olms canton, bribing and charming my way into votes."

"And you have two?" Eiryn blinked, watching him eat her breakfast. She had hoped Saber would include her in this quest, being mostly of politics and traveling. He went without her? But why would she even feel surprise at that?

He nodded, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Yngling Half Troll's vote came at the bargain price of 2000 gold. Our conversation took all of five minutes. Dram Bero was simply impressed I found his hiding place." A smug grin spread across his face, "Well that and he knew my being Horator was in everyone's best interest."

That was easy, Eiryn thought to herself. That is, compared to all the other quests they had taken on since this whole thing began. "And three to go?"

The Nerevarine cast a furtive glance around him before speaking, "Orvas Dren is the key to the other two. I'm not sure if I can bribe him, and rumor has it he's already made a deal with the Sixth House." He continued at her widened eyes. "Politics, Eiryn. It all boils down to politics. He wants to be on the winning side."

"You sound as though you agree with him."

"No, but I understand his _wanting_ to be on the winning side. He just doesn't understand that Dagoth is not the winning side. Trust me on that."

Eiryn realized he was insinuated more about Dagoth's plans that she knew about. Up until this point, the Nerevarine spoke little of Dagoth Ur. He had dreams, however, which he simply refused to share. "What do you mean?"

Saber hesitated briefly, touching light fingers on a small pouch where he'd hidden the Moon-and-Star, "You've seen the followers of the Sixth House." He continued at her nod. They had both seen the hideous transformations of what were once Dunmer, changed into ghouls, vampires, and other creatures. They were also immortal, once killed they would only be resurrected again in service to the Sixth House. "Dagoth has no room for foreigners in his cult, nor does he have need of anyone who not loyal to him. The Great Houses will find themselves killed or changed, there is no other choice."

"And Dren thinks he's worked out some bargain with Dagoth?" Eiryn asked.

"Business," Saber spat in disgust, "It's a matter of business with him."

"So will you kill him then?" The question came out a bit abrupt, but the thought of his playing assassin didn't set well with her. She didn't like the idea of killing unless it was the necessary. Memories of a time not long ago still haunted her, of Saber beating a man senseless and later breaking his neck with his bare hands. The man had been a monster, had tortured Saber by order of the villain Nekros. Both, it could be argued, deserved far worse pain and death. Seeing the act with the look in Saber's eyes when he did so still unsettled her greatly.

The Nerevarine fell silent for a moment, pausing in his breakfast to consider the subject. He often admitted how much he disliked having to kill anyone, but had less guilt when he did so. "If I have to." Another moment of silence was loud before he spoke again, "Did you know he's linked to the Morag Tong?"

Eiryn stiffened immediately upon hearing word of the local Assassin's guild. "What!" They were legal here in the lands of the Dark Elves, often used to maintain a method of orderly murder between the Great Houses, thereby avoiding all out war between the factions. Writs of execution were accepted as a viable means of killing one's enemies. If what Saber told her were true, then he might find himself facing a writ of execution himself. "What are you going to do?"

The Dunmer gave a sly wink, wiggling brows. "Use my charming good nature of course."

"What?"

He gave a low laugh, as if there were some joke that completely passed over Eiryn's head. "Never mind. I have a plan on dealing with Muthsera Dren so I won't have to kill him." He refused to delve further into what that plan might be, but continued with other matters. "But I do have something I need you to do."

"What's that?" Eiryn felt a spark of excitement that she had something better to do than follow around, or sit and worry.

Saber shifted in his chair, "I'm not sure you're going to like it-"

"Just tell me." The scout sighed. Her hopes had been dashed upon his words, indicating another annoying chore and not anything of excitement.

"Did you know that Crassius Curio fancies himself a playwright?"

Eiryn frowned, skin crawling at the thought this 'task' encompassed something to do with that man. "Playwright?"

"Not a very good one." Saber explained with an apologetic shrug, "But you see there is this enchanter who needs to get rid of a fool outside his shop, a man who is looking for a theater troupe. If we can help the enchanter, he'll get me better prices on soul gems I'm certain." He jingled his near empty pouch of coin. "And we're needing gold now more than ever."

"So what do I do?" She asked, not happy.

"Go speak with Crassius Curio about letting this man, Marcel, join his troupe."

"And that's it?"

Green eyes that should've been deep red winked at her in a familiar playful manner. "And hope no one asks you for a kiss."

"S'wit"


	6. Chapter 6

Saber felt his magicka draining from holding the illusion for so long. As he made his way out of the city of Vivec, a quick flash of fingers and the illusion was swept away. Now he had to be careful who he'd speak to, and how he'd travel. He decided to walk instead of taking a boat or Silt Strider. The time away from civilization would do him good, letting him replenish his magicka reserves, while letting him sort out his thoughts. Maybe on the way, he'd soul-capture some creatures and sell the gems when he returned.

He had to admit, however, that the anonymity was a release from infamy. He'd encountered a number of people he'd before on his trips to the city of Vivec and not one had seen thru the spell of illusion. Guards didn't give him a second glance. Now he knew why his old master Nekros maintained the deception of being human for so long. This allowed him to move among people who were not the wiser that he was a vampire.

Thoughts of the vampire-assassin sobered the Dunmer's thoughts. Their last encounter still left him unsettled, where Nekros had left him alive. The elf touched his throat where Nekros had tried to transform him. Wounds were long since healed, but scars were left in their wake…one's no one could even see.

_All these years, that had been his plan…to make me one of his clan_. The monster, Saber had assumed, would prefer him dead than let him go. One might say he had been rather obsessive of the young elf. It was the main reason Saber felt compelled to kill him at such a young age. There was that, and knowing Nekros would slaughter friends he'd made in the short time he was away from his cruel master. After years of thinking him dead, the assassin shows up again in Morrowind, revealing he'd been one of the undead all this time. The attempt at transformation didn't work. Saber was immune to all diseases, including vampirism.

The dream of his former master returned with these thoughts, further provoking questions rather than answers. The dream before the Ash Ghoul's attack seemed very real, as though Nekros had now some means to contact him in the realm of thought. _And he woke me in time to save my life, _Saber thought to himself.

I'm in your blood, as you are in mine… 

Nekros' words rang too close to the truth. Saber had often wondered how much of Nekros' influence had taken hold of his soul just by knowing only his teachings and only the assassin for so long. Now there was no question. The attempt to convert him into a vampire had failed, but something else had affected him. Something sinister had crept into his soul. Outward appearances were that the same old Saber, but deeper inside, he knew the foreboding anger and bloodlust was not his own. He sensed this when he killed Nekros' henchman a few months ago, beneath the stronghold of Kogoruhn.

Upon killing him, Saber felt a wave of elation and satisfaction. There was a distinct well of pleasure in the vicious method of killing the man who had tortured him for days. True, the man had no weapon on him, but neither did Saber. He'd snapped the man's neck with his bare hands. At first, the Dunmer wondered if revenge was that effortless for everyone, but the look of horror from Eiryn and his friend Merthisan left him concerned. They didn't know what the man had done, he reasoned more often than not. Surely, they'd do the same thing if faced with the same nightmare?

Nekros also disappeared. Saber could only guess he'd returned to Cyrodil. Now in light of the dream, he was left to wonder if the vampire simply sat back to bide his time. And to what purpose…? He left me alive, even after I tried to kill him. Saber frowned, trying to make sense of it. He couldn't reason that the vampire had actually believed him to be Morrowind's savior? The thought was ludicrous. Even if it were true, the assassin would hardly care what happened to the providence of Vvardenfell…

But if Morrowind fell….Saber almost stopped walking. Could it be that Nekros recognized that Dagoth Ur had all of Tamriel in mind? The thought was unsettling. Unsettling that Dagoth Ur had the means to do so, but that Nekros allowed him to live to play out his part in Fate.

Saber shoved thoughts aside, blowing out air held too long. It didn't matter, for now at least. He had other things to focus on now-

He felt he should be a bit guilty over sending Eiryn on such a simple task. Its for her own good, he told himself. He could hardly carry out his plan with her at his side, and Saber wasn't entirely sure if it would work. If it didn't, then he'd have to kill Dren, perhaps many of his guards as well. Fighting was difficult enough without having to worry if she could make her own escape.

_I'd never forgive myself is something happened to her._

It wasn't as though he lied to her either. They _did_ need money, and lots of it. Working with an enchanter was a plausible means to gain more funds, but guilt nagged him into remembering he already had a mage in Balmora to sell the gems to. Perhaps he needed to find something a bit more dangerous for her to do next time. Eiryn baulked any time he wanted to protect her, which is exactly what her father, Caius Cosades of the Blades, too often did.

Well, he thought to himself, what's done is done. He needed to think ahead as to how his plan would work. His hand fell to the pouch at his side, knowing the Televani bug musk was safe. The dark red-brown paste had an intoxicating and alluring scent. Although not an aphrodisiac, the musk would help in making one more …_persuasive_. In this next challenge, he needed all the skill, charm, and persuasiveness he could muster.

He smiled. _Every little bit helps…_

Eiryn sat in the antechamber of the Hlaalu manor, waiting for an audience with Crassius Curio. She felt underdressed amid the well-dressed House retainers and staff, still wearing her simple travel garb. "I should've wore the gown..." She murmured to herself, but something told her to give no indication to the lecherous councilman to even considering harassing her.

The brown tunic matched equally brown pants, with only the richer greens of the dyed leather cuirass she wore giving any color at all. The clothing was for camouflage as much as for protection. Here, however, the clothes could not hide her from the furtive glances of those around her.

"He will see you now." The terse Dunmer woman she'd met before looked as though she just swallowed something sour. She stood motioning for Eiryn to be quick about her business.

Even before the door closed, Crassius Curio walked up with his usual flourish. "Ah, delightful to see you again!" He clasped her hand to press lips against her knuckles, making her cringe. "Lovely as ever, I see!"

She forced a smile, gently but firmly retrieving her hand back. It was all she could do to not wipe her hand on her pants. "Yes, I'm here to discuss-"

"And where is that delicious Dunmer gentleman that was with you?" Crassius looked over her shoulder as if expecting Saber to enter.

She opened her mouth to answer, finding the councilman leering too close. She drew back, "As I've said, I'm here to discuss a matter of a theater troupe?"

The man's brows shot up, and a look of delight brightened his face. "Theater? Oh my! Have you heard of my new play?" Before she could answer, he moved to his desk to fluster through several sheets of paper and scrolls. "It's going to be fabulous! _"The Lusty Argonion Maid"_ will stir the soul, touch the heart, and rouse-" He turned slightly to give a wink, "The masses from their slumber!"

"Yes," Eiryn said through gritted teeth and another forced smile. "I heard about your plays…" Nothing good. Crassius Curio as considered one of the worst playwrights of all time.

Crassius gasped dramatically, splaying a hand over his heard. "Tell me your Dunmer friend wishes for a part!"

Eiryn blinked, trying to imagine Saber having to endure the man. "No-"

A pout pursed out lips, and he returned to his search through the mess of papers. "Drat. He would've been perfect…."

"Its my understanding you're looking for a troupe of actors?"

The Imperial paused to stare back at her. "A company of players, yes!" He gave a wistful sight, "But there are so few in the area that are willing to act, even for a good price. Of course, I need an actor with wit, grace, charm, and a firm...oh, never mind. You wouldn't be a bad choice, muffin, but you seem to have other matters to attend to. If you see someone else who fits the bill, send them to Uncle Crassius!"

Releasing clenched fists, Eiryn took a slow breath to calm her frustration. "That's what I've been trying to tell you. A man by the name of Marcel Maurard is looking for a theater troupe."

"Marcel, you say?" Crassius bit his lower lip in thought, considering possibilities "Hmm never heard of him. Is he any good?"

"I'm not a true thespian." Eiryn admitted dryly. "I would imagine you'd need to see him first, but he's more than happy to come by and speak to you himself."

Brown eyes cast a flutter of lashes her way, "Well …I must admit, I'm intrigued. Tell him to come by. I'll give him a personal…._interview_." The mouth twitched into a smile. "This was very thoughtful of you to think of your Crassius…"

_Oh lord_… Eiryn smiled again, hoping it appeared genuine. "Your welcome. But now I must get back to…things." Anything but here.

"Oh be sure to come visit anytime, dumpling." The councilman winked. "You're more than welcome in my house."

"Thank you." She gave a courteous nod and walked as fast as her feet could carry here out of the manor.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Standing upon a rise amid a grove of trees, Saber contemplated the plantation spread out before him with a sense of misgiving. He hadn't cast the spell of illusion yet, and was debating if entering as his true self rather than a guise might prove to be the wiser choice. If anyone would recognize him, he might face the handful of fully armored guards, and anyone else interested in the bounty on his head.

_On the other hand, if I go in with a disguise_, Saber thought to himself, _revealing myself as another, there is no cause to trust anything I say._ He eyed the Moon-and-Star glowing upon his hand, feeling the faint throb of magick within.

_What would Lord Nerevar do?_

The answer was sudden; filling him with a swell of unexpected courage he knew wasn't his own. Indoril Nerevar would approach with honor and truth. It was how he'd lived his life, united the Great Houses, and managed to instill in others a sense of fidelity that Saber didn't feel he had. He took comfort knowing the ring had enchantments to inspire and persuade. Perhaps the very heart of Nerevar himself would help guide him through this.

"Well here goes nothing…" He murmured to himself, dabbing a slight amount of the bug musk on his neck. Every little bit helps, right? He caught the scent that was earthy, sweet, and almost floral all the same time. It lightened his spirits, and surprisingly brought him an inner calm.

Pocketing the remainder of the substance, he walked with determined stride to his meeting with Dren.

One of the worst aspects of being companion to the Nerevarine, Eiryn thought to herself, was the cursed waiting until he returned. She sat in the Black Shalk inn; sipping a drink and watching the patrons at the next table finish a game of dice. She was bored, finding once again having to sit and wait.

Being a scout marooned in the city of Vivec left her feeling caged. There just wasn't that much work for her skill in a city as big as Vivec to keep her busy. Taking another sip of the Comberry wine, the Breton considered options. Part of her wanted to remain where she was until Saber got back. And he _would_ come back, Eiryn quieted doubts that came to surface. He was, after all, the Nerevarine. He'd succeed where others failed.

Another part of her had itchy feet. She spend most of her life on the road, guiding others into various regions, exploring ruins, and even taking on a few quests that honed her skills. Saber had once suggested she join another guild. Already having been through a scout's guild in Balmora, she was also a Blade, serving the Emperor as a spy. Being that Saber now carried the mantle of guild master, she couldn't rise up too high within the ranks. Besides, the quest to defeat Dagoth Ur took precedent over everything else.

Eiryn wasn't so sure if she wanted to join some of the guilds anyway. The thieves' guild or the Morag Tong assassin's guild could hardly be considered options. She'd not break any laws or bring harm to others unless first attacked. She most certainly not wish to steal or kill at someone else's whim. The mage's guild wouldn't accept her with her difficulty in performing the simplest of spells. The fighter's guild was a possibility. Being a sword-for-hire wasn't very appealing, however.

There was of course tomb-raiding. On a few occasion she resorted to exploring ancient ruins or tombs for coin, finding some challenges with a number of traps or creatures encountered there. Eiryn wasn't so sure she could find anything close. What if Saber needed her? Then again, he mentioned the need for coin. Even if he succeeded to become Horator for House Hlaalu, there were two other houses to contend with. Bribing was considered a viable form of persuasion, and might avoid confrontations. Even the Ashlander tribes would require bribes as well. They would then, need coin and lots of it.

Tombs, she knew, were few and far between within the city of Vivec. There were a few of course, beneath the city, but she wasn't sure of how well received trespass upon ancestral tombs would be with the locals. A people who held high esteem for their ancestors would hardly appreciate someone desecrating their place of rest. Dunmeri often had family temples in their own homes or built within the tombs call The Waiting Door, ash pits and even the bones of forebears were kept there for communion. Invoking the spirits of the dead was for training, blessing or information.

Saber had on occasion summoned his own ancestral spirit known as Enril. The ghost would speak to him, but to Eiryn, all she heard was a ghostly sigh or moan. The spirit, Saber would explain to her, was an ancient warrior from the days the Ashlands were green and fertile. Little else was told to her, being their relationship was a tense one. She often found the elf arguing with Enril, only hearing only the one side. Apparently, the spirit was often giving advice to his charge, telling him the right thing to do, according to Ashlander custom.

In battle, the spirit would fight along side them, sending blasts of magick towards a foe, or alerting the elf to danger ahead. According to Saber, the spirit liked Eiryn. She wasn't sure what to make of it. The first time she met him she nearly attacked without thinking. _Good thing ghosts were forgiving._

She'd learned how Saber never knew he had the ability to summon his ancestral spirit until he was well in his teen years. Too old, according to some customs, for a proper coming of age rite of passage. Enril discovered his charge had trained to be an assassin, a dishonorable one at that. In addition, he was a thief by chosen profession. For a tribal warrior, Enril must have been galled to learn this.

No wonder the two fought, and Saber rarely summoned him.

Pulling thoughts back to her boredom, the young scout decided to take a stroll within the Foreign Quarter Canton for a change of scenery. The entire canton was closed in, windowless, consisting of hallways and an inner courtyard. Three tiers comprised of different levels within the pyramid, with having the plaza and guild halls at its top. The lower levels consisted of tradesmen, the taverns, and merchant's shops.

Within the plaza, the ceiling vaulted to a dome of brown stone and green glass. Gardens of glowing mushrooms and flowers were set in stone planters, with the larger mushroom trees known in Morrowind stretching to the ceiling. The entire area was closed in, with only a handful of locals milling about to do their shopping.

Much to her irritation, she also found a number of Ordinators patrolling the plaza. She knew they were not looking for her, but caught a few words spoken between them. "Heretic", and only one heretic came to mind. Eiryn managed to walk nonchalantly by, catching them talking among themselves.

"Not another one…" One said with an aggravated sigh.

"At least this one is Dunmer." The second shifted, brushing dust off a sleeve of his gold and purple uniform.

"N'wah." The third spat, evoking disgruntled sounds from his comrades. "And an agent of the Emperor. I for one will not stand for spies within our borders. We find him, I have no intention of his being taken to the Ministry. I'll deal with him myself."

"Orders, Dalem." The first one spoke in a chiding tone. "We serve the Tribunal, not our own agenda."

"Humph."

The third straightened his left pauldron. "I agree with Silms. As much as I'd love to teach the upstart a lesson, we do have our orders. Besides, you know what becomes of heretics in the Ministry. Heretics get what they deserve in the end."

"True." Dalem nodded, "Just keep your eye out for a tall Dunmer, more likely seeking audience to that Crassius fellow."

"I'll post guards to watch his manor."

As they parted ways, one nearly brushed against her in his way thru the plaza. Eiryn focused on paying attention to a nearby shop as if contemplating entrance. None stopped to speak to her. Thankfully they saw her as nothing but another useless N'wah tourist. She hoped Saber would remember to use his magic to hide his identity upon his return. But what if he was accepted as Hortator, and felt that would protect him?

If only she could find him first!

Among the Great Houses, the customary ritual of welcome often revealed the intent and feeling of the host. This subtle interaction was often lost to anyone not born of Dunmer heritage. Worse yet was if you were born elsewhere and not on native soil.

If he had been a Morrowind-born peasant, he'd receive more welcome than what they gave him now. Saber was left to wait in an alcove of the manor, with not even an offer for drink or food, not even a chair to sit. Add to the fact he had obviously traveled by foot to the manor on the coast, he knew his host was less than enthusiastic to his arrival.

He felt a bit of understanding to the Dark Elves here. They had been a conquered land without even the benefit of a proper war. They lost through Armistice by Lord Vivec's order, submitting to the Emperor of Cyrodil without a single engagement of battle. It was said there were certain concessions established for self rule, and this was how Morrowind maintained their Dunmer culture and heritage. Not everyone was in favor of this settlement. House members of House Indoril were so shocked by the unexpected and unwelcome edict, preferred suicide rather than the humiliation of defeat without battle.

Such fanaticism was not uncommon here, Saber was finding. _And now I'm expected to become Hortator and savior… _Saber shook his head at the thought. The gods must surely have a strange sense of humor to pick him of all people.

"He will see you now." A voice spoke behind him. It was the same House retainer who had greeted him with a stiff nod and terse attitude. "Up the stairs…"

Saber had removed all weapons except his sword. Dunmer valued a warrior's skill, as well as their own by allowing them into meetings such as this. It was a sign of trust but also that House members were that confident of their own skill to let guests bear weapons among them. Given that most also had a fair amount of magic also proved that if Saber entered with nothing would be seen as not only a weakness, but an insult.

Politics… He hated the rules and hated the self-possessed stupidity of the Houses. Although he was reluctantly growing in admirations of some traits, he doubted Dunmer politics would ever be something he could get used to. Saber kept his thoughts to himself as he took the flight of stairs up to meet Muthsera Dren.

Orvas Dren, younger brother of the Duke of Ebonheart, was said to be the Grandmaster of the Morag Tong. According to Dram Bero, another councilor Saber found in the city of Vivec, Orvas also had dealings with the Skooma trade and moon sugar. He was a well known slave owner, he was also well known for his dislike of foreigners and anything 'Imperial"

Donning an impressive cuirass of Newtscale, a formidable heavy sword and other armaments indicated he did not come to being councilor by diplomacy. Here was a warrior by blood and bone. Everything about him screamed that; from the weapons to armor, to the direct and unwelcome stare from his red eyes.

Hair was cropped short and spiked. The high brows rose above a forehead now furrowed in a displeased frown.

"What do you want, outlander?" The throaty voice was challenging, accepting nothing less than the truth. The Dunmer was older, with creases at the thin lips and eyes; creases that illustrated here was a man who rarely smiled.

"You know why I came." Saber took the defense, knowing the mer would expect nothing less. "To be named Hortator. And you know why."

The head nodded slowly, the unwavering gaze narrowed slightly, unblinking. "And what is the title of Hortator worth to you? Why do you want to become Hortator?"

Some might argue for power, but House Hortator was nothing to do with power. According to those he bothered to ask, Hortator was a role he needed to fulfill, a title he would wear during times of strife to lead a House in war, and be champion. Somehow he didn't expect the House Dunmer to follow him into battle; not against Dagoth Ur, but this was what Azura had placed on his shoulders to bear. As Hortator, he was merely volunteering to tackle Red Mountain; alone if need be.

Saber spoke directly and honestly, telling Dren how he came to stand before him. He explained the trials he endured, hoping he explained well enough without appearing arrogant, but enough to merit his vote as champion. Through his speech, the councilor indicated nothing, almost as if he already knew most of the story. Saber ended with an emphasis on ending the havoc Red Mountain wrought, but also to protect Morrowind from the Empire.

He wasn't sure why he felt compelled to add that, other than trying to sway the man to his way of thinking, but even as the words were uttered, Saber realized he was telling the truth. He _did_ intend on protecting Morrowind from the Empire if need be; the emperor be damned.

A heavy pause hung in the air between them, with each elf staring at the other as if waiting until the other would flinch. Orvas Dren knew it was his moment to speak, and took advantage of that. Letting the silence build to unsettle what he considered an opponent.

"I will tell you I have spoken with Dagoth Ur." Dren finally spoke to him, shifting slightly that made armor rattle and creak when he moved. "He has promised me the same thing. And to drive foreigners from Morrowind." He paused to flicker his gaze over Saber as if a silent warning of what he thought of _all_ foreigners. "I am not one to ignore opportunity, nor am I one to be troubled by rubbing two sides of a coin. But I have also seen his followers, and the Blight."

Saber was surprised Dagoth Ur had approached anyone of the Houses. Not that he would ever leave Red Mountain. For now, that was impossible with the Ghostgate. No, he spoke to you in dreams, invoking words and promises to his kinsmen to rally them to his side. Man of his dreamers went mad from them. "Then you see what he offers-"

Dren glared at the interruption. "And I also see an outlander asking to be named Hortator!" He snapped. "And I know _nothing_ about you. I care _nothing_ for Ashlanders and their prophecies. I care _nothing_ for that Imperial fool, Crassius, will vote just about anyone in, as will the rest of the Hlaalu council! I knew a time when being a House member meant something. My kinsmen embraced the outlanders with open arms, and we have suffered for it. Now you come to me and promise to end this mess with Dagoth Ur? Will you drive yourself out and take the rest of the n'wah with you?"

Standing erect, and finding his hand wanting very much to find his sword, Saber looked him steadily in the eye. His hand tightened into a fist where a sword might be if he kept it to his hip. "And if you have to choose between Dagoth or the Imperials who's grip in the politics here is tenuous at best, which would you prefer?"

The Dunmer remained stoic, lips pursed in a tight line. Inadvertently, his gaze had dropped fixating upon Saber's hand. At first, Saber thought he took the motion as a threat and might attack, but only then did he realize he wasn't looking at where his hand was, but what was _on_ his hand.

_The Moon and Star…_

Orvas Dren visibly calmed himself by sheer force of will. "I have long believed it was a mistake to turn from the old gods. Perhaps Azura is with you after all, perhaps not. But if Ashlander leaders have accepted you, even one of them, and you have come this far, then you must be a man of your word. For that, I will support you as Hortator."

Stunned, Saber stepped back. That was something he hadn't expected coming from him of all people! He also had the odd sense Dren had supported him all along, even before this meeting. His decision was already made.

Dren, however, wasn't finished. The tone grew threatening. "Do not rest on your laurels yet, outlander. Naming your Hortator is a small thing compared to what you will be undertaking. I hope for your sake that you will do as promised. Your word is your oath and bond. I take these things very seriously. And you know who…and what…I am. Do we understand one another?"

What he wasn't saying was an unspoken threat of using whatever methods necessary to be sure Saber did as was asked, or he'd face the Morag Tong. "Completely." Saber told him, feeling an odd sense of …_something_ prompt his words now. "You have my oath.."

Nerevar… Saber felt the same sense of presence as he had before. This is what Lord Nerevar would want, and knew what was expected among the Houses. The ring felt heavier on his hand as he expected to Dren. The councilman only nodded, brushing his hand away in dismissal.

"Velanda Omani and Nevena Ules will concur with my decision. You must, however, seek them out and ask out of formality." He turned, jerking his chin in order to tell Saber he must go. "Now go, outlander."

Saber knew the two remaining council members did as Dren wished; not that they decided these matters on their own. As he strode from the plantation, ignoring the weary eyes of the slaves working the fields, he wondered how many more council members will he have to make oaths to…? How much deeper will he find himself?

_NOTE: I do intend on finishing this story. For a while I had 'lost my writing spark', and with a computer crash, I also lost Morrowind on the hard drive. I have yet to reinstall but still managed to be inspired enough to get back to this story. I'm glad, dear readers, you are enjoying this. I'll update soon._


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Councilman Crassius smiled pleasantly as he offered Eiryn a cup of Comberry wine. "Much as I enjoy your company, my dear, I really think you should play a little harder to get."

"Oh good grief…" She muttered into the cup, swigging most of the content down in one gulp. The warm burn of alcohol, she hoped, would settle her threadbare nerves. _What was I thinking coming to this guy for help? _It had been a spur of the moment, desperate decision. Her thinking was surely Crassius Curio could do something about this danger to Saber and the temple.

This time, her visit she made sure to wear her usual attire of leather pants and soft soled boots, not wishing to egg 'Uncle Crassius' more than she had to. A comfortable tunic was worn beneath a light leather cuirass of greens and browns. Weapons were minimal, with only her sword at her hip. The bow and quiver she carried. Despite returning to her usual, practical clothing, the councilman nevertheless leered and insisted upon kissing her hand when she first arrived.

"I'm only teasing. You're not really my type." The Imperial chuckled. He sat across from her at the small table in his apartments, enjoying his little games he was known to play with people. This surprised her, being she'd heard that pretty much anyone was his type. "Now your Dunmer companions…mmmm. Yes, he's simply delicious isn't he?"

"I didn't come here for this!" She said stiffly. How on earth did this man ever reach to the level of power? "Hortator or not, the Temple is looking for him! Doesn't this bother you at all?"

A hand waved her concerns away like an annoying fly. His features twisted into a petulant scowl. "Of course this concerns us all. That is, if you believe in all this nonsense to do with prophecy. I don't, not really. I only gave him my vote because he's so yummy. And he appears to be competent. As for this Temple business, the Empire has left Vvardenfell to govern itself. And _House_ business doesn't necessarily have anything to do with _Temple_ business, especially on this matter."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning that your Dunmer companion is on his own." Crassius put it simply.

She couldn't hide her gall at his words. "You do realize that if he fails, the Sixth House-"

"The Sixth House," Crassius lifted his tone, dropping the façade of joviality. The presence also turned to stone, as if somewhere beneath the fluff and gaiety, a real mind was at work. "Will be dealt with, most likely with war."

"And what of Dagoth?"

"I didn't say it was a winnable war." He sipped his wine daintily. The frivolous manner was again set in place. "And if you're friend is insane enough to take on Dagoth Ur, then more power to him. I really don't see Houses banding together to form an army behind him. He's a foreigner, my dear. Surely you know what that means."

Fists clenched helplessly. She silently cursed the bigotry of the Dark Elves, cursed their hard-headedness. "So you won't help." She stated flatly. Her time had been a waste.

"I'm not sure how you think I _can_ help. I am but one of many councilors, and our votes mean nothing to the Temple. I would dare say voting a Hortator might even prove to be against Temple policy." He shrugged; he poured more wine into her cup. "But House Hlaalu has been sympathetic towards the Empire for a long time. Naturally, we'd support a Hortator, especially a foreigner working for the Emperor. But if you are asking us to make a stand against the Tribunal, I'm afraid we simply cannot do that."

"They will torture him, or worse." Eiryn found her words seem so pointless. This man didn't care, being so wrapped up in politics. If he did, he wasn't about to take a stand against the Temple.

"He's a clever boy." Crassius spoke with assurance. His wine glass was lifted in salute. "And I'm sure he is very much aware of the danger he's in. I would suggest we sit and enjoy ourselves until he returns. A little bird tells me that he will arrive shortly."

Saber felt the familiar tingle at the base of his spine when he cast the spell of illusion. Magic was becoming second nature to him, allowing him to use more than just his armory of stealth skills or weapon skills. So far, the cost of appearing a roughly hewn Breton was worth the obnoxious amount of gold he'd paid a mage to create for him. The magic only lasted so long, taking a great deal of _mana_ but would shroud his identity long enough for him to reach the Crassius manor.

He wasn't entirely surprised to find five well armed Ordinators patrolling the area. Even their demeanor was similar to that of guard dogs on the prowl. Oh yes, they were looking for him, and eager to find their prey.

The real trick to having any illusion was more than just the appearance. One had to act the part as well. Subtle things such as mannerism could pull off the masks, and those who were observant would catch onto the ruse. His part today was that of a pilgrim. Setting a friendly smile on his face, Saber strode past with purpose. He remembered to remove rings, and use a robe to cover the armor, and anything that would denote his real identity, and briefly he thanked Fate for giving him a shady past to help aid him in knowing exactly how to hide amid the obvious.

"Blessings of the Nine." He said with pretended zeal, adding a bow and pleasant smile he didn't feel in the slightest.

A light hiss of distain was the only reply from the city guard, shifting out of his way to let him pass. "Keep moving." The tone was thick with disgust towards anything Imperial.

Passing through, Saber entered the manor to meet with Crassius. He was surprised to find Eiryn already there, waiting.

"Eiryn?" The illusion slipped off, fading into mist. "I thought I told you to meet me at the Black Shalk."

The councilman waved her to silence, taking over his role as host. "Jealousy doesn't become you, dear." He flashed a wide grin. "I'm delighted that you found a means to deal with Dren without killing him. His brother, the Duke could make things very awkward for the rest of us-"

"So I'm Hortator now?" Saber asked plainly. His attention, however, remained on Eiryn. She normally was more enthusiastic with his returning to her. The lack of welcome was unsettling to say the least, and he wondered what he had done now to provoke her mood.

The councilman nodded, placing his drink on the table. "Only one last thing." He turned to pick up a cloth belt, trimmed in tassel and gold thread. The cloth was satin on linen, with the softer material threaded with patterns of Dunmer tradition. "The Belt of the Hortator. Wear this, and others will recognize you as the Champion of House Hlaalu." Just as he moved to wrap the cloth sash around Saber's waist, the elf snatched it away, with a dark glare to warn him away.

The Councilman shrugged, returning to his seat. "There's no reason for rude behavior, pumpkin. Though your eyes have a certain sparkle when you're angry."

This time the elf breathed a sigh of resigned frustration. Opting to ignore his attention, he turned to Eiryn. "What's wrong?"

The woman stroked hair away from her cheek which had escaped the long braid. "Oh you know, the usual. We're in a city where you're a heretic, and the Ordinators are looking for you. That's all."

Saber grinned at her sarcastic tone. "Is that all? I'd think you would be used to this by now!" Growing serious, he added, "I agree, however, that we should go. The sooner we leave Vivec, the better."

She nodded vigorously.

Saber paused upon considering the next phase of his quest. He turned to speak once more to the flamboyant councilman. "Any words on how I'm to deal with the other Houses?"

Crassius warmed to his being asked his opinion. "Speak with Athyn Sarethi in Ald Ruhn for House Redoran. For House Televani, you should speak to Master Aryon in Tel Vos, he can tell you how be their Hortator."

"My thanks." Saber gave a light nod before turning. As they left, he could hear the Imperial sigh softly.

"Don't forget your Uncle Crassius….your lonely admirer."

Eiryn frowned as she soon realized Saber had cupped her elbow in which to hasten their pace. She allowed him; taking notice of the number of Ordinators had increased since she first arrived. Fear coiled in the pit of her stomach.

Saber, appeared once more as a green eyed Breton. The expression was tight when looked over his shoulder as they made their way out of the plaza. "The spell is beginning to fade." He murmured. "I don't have enough magicka to maintain it for much longer."

_Oh no_, she also found the Ordinators also looked their way, no doubt wondering as to why the couple moved so quickly. _This is seriously bad._ "What do we do?"

"Don't panic." He replied, tugging the hood over his face. "Not yet anyway."

As soon as they moved through the large doors to the outer walkways of the canton, they hurried to the open walkways.

"Are they following?" Saber asked, not wishing to look as his illusion failed him. The green hue of irises faded to deep burgundy red, and the pale complexion darkened to stormy gray. The hood would conceal the pointed ears.

Eiryn managed a quick glance as they headed down a ramp to the second level. Three Ordinators that had been in plaza were following. Due to the masks of their helms shrouded any expression they had. Their body language however reminded her of a Nix hounds sensing their prey. Adrenalin turned her blood to ice. "Oh no…"

"You need to get to Balmora." Saber told her, breaking into a jog. "Your ring-!"

He meant for her to use her Ring of Recall, which could return her safely to the city of Balmora in the blink of an eyes. Running along side him, she gasped out in an angry tone. "I'm not leaving you-!" He wasn't crazy enough to deal with Ordinators by himself?

Expectedly, the Ordinators shouted out calls for more guardsmen to take pursuit. Three more took up the chase, two more moving up from the lower levels. All drew out weapons, and Eiryn had a sickening vision of Saber being dragged back to the Ministry of Truth. After his time beneath Kogaruhn, could he tolerate being tortured all over again…?

Saber pulled off the hood, began tugging off the robe. "Can you swim?"

She followed his intention to the water nearly forty feet below. The height was dizzying. For a brief moment, her head spun, and palms broke into a sweat. _I can do this_. Following him to the ledge, he flashed a boyish grin.

"You know, I could also fly if I have to?"

"You s'wit!" She yelled, taking that leap. She should've known that he could take care of himself. Some might say he was a master of surviving against the odds. To her surprise, he didn't levitate, but fell the distance with her. Her stomach lurched, and her scream cut off just as they hit the water.

Coldness took the breath away as sound suddenly muffled. She could see the dark shape of Saber already heading back to the surface. Her mind raced over the possibility of other things that might be in the water with them, but she doubted they'd be any more dangerous than staying where they were. Following him, she paddled for all that she was worth.

A splash sounded too close to her head, revealing the guards shooting arrows at the both of them. Neither had the spells or potions to make a haty retrreat, and Eiryn realized that even if they were to meet the shore, the guards would likely be waiting for them.

"Use the ring, Eiryn." Saber managed to gasp out between gritted teeth. "We meet back in Balmora…" When she frowned in response, he matched her with a dark meaningful scowl. _"Do it now!"_

Knowing any protests were useless in light of their situation, she gave one last rueful look before she cast the spell. The world tilted and changed around her from buoyant cold water to warm, gentle rain with solid ground beneath her feet. Magic swirled causing her to stagger at the door of the small house they shared in Balmora.

He'll be fine, she told herself, turning her face to the raining sky above. He said he could levitate if he had to-

The Dunmer, satisfied Eiryn was now out of harm's way, cast the last spell he could manage before having to recharge his magicka. Levitation took too much, and wouldn't last. This left him with little in the way of choices to escape his pursuers.

Drawing a glyph in the air, Saber muttered an arcane word. The spell was simple and instantaneous. Where he was floundering in the cold channels of Vivec, now he found the water's surface held his weight. Feet splashed as he wasted no time to get as far as possible from the cantons before the magic faded.

The sound of hissing arrows whizzed past to land in the water much to close for his taste. The sound of peril served to goad him into a run. The odd consistency of walking on top of any body of water left one off kilter. The elf felt as though he might slip, the sensation left him staggering, and the light weight of water on his boots dampened his efforts.

Before him, he saw an opening between the last two cantons. _The bright open space of the sea! _He'd be an easy target, but if he managed to get far enough, he could head to shore and find someplace to hide to recharge his magic. Zigzagging, Saber pumped legs and cleared this last obstacle.

A sharp searing pain hit his thigh, throwing him forward to land face first atop the water's surface. Grunting in pain, he paused. The spell maintained him long enough to realize an arrow protruded from his leg, jutting behind him awkwardly. He wouldn't be able to pull it out.

Despite excruciating pain, Saber forced himself back to his feet. The wound was like fire, stabbing him again each time he hobbled on the leg. Refusing to give him lightly, the elf gritted his teeth and marched on.

"Saber can take of himself." Arathor told Eiryn as they sat in the Southwall Corner pub. The Bosmer refused to accept her concerns as anything but fancy, and insisted they order the most expensive food and drink in the house. Being they were in the Southwall, this meant Nixhound stew with bread, and a bottle of Greef to wash it down.

Eiryn barely touched her food, and sipped at the overly sweet Comberry brandy. She resented the wood elf's dismissive attitude. "Yeah, like when he was in Kogoruhn?"

Arathor's heart shaped face pinched. "Are you going to bring that up again? That's your answer every time we have this discussion."

She never told him the details of that day, only saying that Saber had been captured by a vampire and she and Master Kendari had rescued him. Eiryn didn't mention the vampire was Nekros, also known as the Butcher of Cyrodil, and Shadow of terror to many. He was also known as Saber's former master, whom he believed he had killed decades before.

The story was simply to long and sordid to tell Arathor, and Eiryn didn't feel it was her place. Saber refused to speak of details, not even of Kogoruhn.

"You know what I mean." She growled at him.

Arathor nodded, earrings sparkling in the candle glow of the pub. "Yeah, yeah." He replied with a wave of his hand. Dark eyes glittered. "But Saber is very good at getting out of scrapes. Who is to say he could've saved himself if given enough time, eh? You worry too much."

Blowing an exasperated sigh, Eiryn slammed her hand down. "I'm going back to Vivec tomorrow to find him."

The Bosmer rolled eyes to the ceiling. "You should give him another day at least to see if he will reach Balmora, otherwise you'll make the trip for nothing!"

"Not if I go by the mages' guild."

This time the elf leaned forward to snatch up her hand, forcing her to look at him. All smiles faded. "Eiryn…You're normally more practical than this. You could go to Vivec and what if _you_ need rescuing? At least give this another day to prepare before taking on city Ordinators!"

Her mouth opened to protest, but reason tangled against her worry and soon won out. Arathor was right. Heading straight to Vivec after their narrow escape could mean the Ordinators would be in full force. She should gather supplies, seek help, and maybe get a disguise before setting on a plan for rescue.

Damn that cocky Dunmer and his screwy plans!

By the time the waterwalking spell dissipated, pain left elf floundering in the water, Saber managed to reach the shore without having to fight off Slaughterfish or the crablike Dreugh creatures known to inhabit the area. The wound bled profusely, leaving a trail from the water up the beach to where he finally rested. Gasping in pain and effort, he knew remaining here wasn't safe either. Somehow he doubted the Ordinators would stop looking for him.

His leg felt as though it was being chewed off, and the arrow would be near impossible to remove himself at the angle it protruded. The shaft embedded almost clear through, with the arrow point just under the skin of his thigh. If only he could push it the remaining way, he might be able to remove it then.

Using a dagger, he cut away the leather greaves from where he knew the arrow point would exit, and managed to slice his undershirt enough to make a tourniquet for when the grisly deed was finished.

"This is going to hurt." He muttered to himself, tying off the leg.

Rolling to his back, he managed to lift his thigh high enough so he could touch the arrow shaft to the ground. Taking a deep breath, and with a quick definite movement, he impaled his thigh. Strangling off his scream, he gripped the arrow shaft and yanked it out before losing his resolve.

The pain was immense. He bit off another scream, falling back on the shore to gasp air and hope he didn't throw up. Blood oozed warmth on the tattered remains of his greaves, reminding him he needed to finish and get moving before wild animals caught the scent of blood.

The sky was quickly fading from blue to speckled black, with two moons almost full to the far horizon. _Good, that will give me enough light to find shelter_.

He tied up the leg, murmured a quick spell of healing to stop the bleeding. He didn't have enough magic to ease his pain. That would have to wait. Staggering to his feet, he fell over, catching himself on a tree before hopping forward. Hobbled left him fearful the city guards might still be looking for him. He was at a serious disadvantage.

A quick glance to the stars and landscape focused bearings to move northeast, and it wasn't long before he found a cave. Thankfully nothing lived in it, nor did it harbor hidden rooms. The short empty space would be perfect for now. Curling up in a miserable cold heap, Saber passed out.

NOTE: My apologies to the readers for taking so long with updates. I'm working on a writer's group in my area, plus web site design, writing other original projects, and a list of other things that keeps me busy. This story is lengthening into something I hadn't expected. I hope this is a good thing. ;-)


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Saber woke sometime during the night, thirsty and disoriented. His first thought was he was back in prison, sleeping on the cold slab of unforgiving stone in a dark cell offering little in the way of comforts. The second thought faded into a memory of his childhood, having been forced to sleep in a dark closet with barely room to stretch his legs. Not that he wanted to now. Movement in the attempt of sitting up reminded him of his wounded leg, shooting jolts of pain that made him want to pass out again.

"I've seen you in better health." A voice growled in the darkness.

Startled, the Dunmer jerked to full alertness, and immediately regretted the sudden movement. He nearly fell back from the agony that wracked his lower exterminates. The voice could be only one person…no, _thing_…a monster that haunted his dreams since childhood. The broken voice was too unique to be anyone else.

"Nekros.." Fear nearly choked him, warring against the sense of helplessness. There would be nothing he could do if his old master decided to mete out retribution now. The ragged voice was caused by a young elf's dagger. He had been a child then, desperate to end his master's life before he killed everything he'd come to know as friends. He hadn't known Nekros was already one of the undead. Saber's vision had adjusted to the darkness of the cave, only a lantern to offer any light at all.

The vampire half-crouched a few feet from him, having been watching him for God only knows how long. The bright hue of inhuman eyes glowed back, unmoved at his predicament. He hadn't bothered with the usual illusion of being human. Saber wondered if this was to frighten him, or merely because they both knew what manner of creature he was.

"What are you doing here?" Saber croaked, feeling nauseas and lightheaded from the pain and fear. He hoped the latter was hidden behind a pretense of bravery.

A soft chuckle echoed in the cave. The sound was grating, almost like a cough. "Have you so quickly forgotten?" The vampire replied, shifting so he sat just out of arm's reach. "Our bond?"

Ah yes, the bond. Ever since that time beneath Kogoruhn, when Nekros had hoped to transform him to a vampire, Saber had sensed another more profound change in himself, as if something dark and sinister had entered his soul. He frowned. "That still doesn't explain why you're here."

A light shrug of shoulders was dismissive. "What can I say? Curiosity got the best of me when I sensed your pain." A crooked smile twisted his lips, revealing his fangs when he spoke. "I had to see for myself how the Nerevarine will get out of this little mess he's gotten himself into."

A number of insults came to mind, but Saber simply didn't have the energy to say them. Instead, he leaned back against the wall, hoping the room would stop spinning.

"You don't look well." Nekros commented at the obvious. His head tilted, the undead gaze scrutinizing. "You've lost a lot of blood."

"I just need rest…" Saber told him, hoping he'd take the hint and leave. More importantly, he hoped the vampire wouldn't kill him. Saber swallowed against a dry throat. He was thirsty, likely from the blood loss, but his stomach rebelled against any thought of drinking anything.

An uneasy silence filled the short distance between them before the vampire gave a dramatic sigh. "So, you're not going to ask me?"

"Ask you what?"

"Why I spared your life after our last meeting."

This time, Saber frowned. He had been curious at the time, but felt likely Nekros' presumed moment of morality shaded something akin to self preservation. Nekros knew he was the Nerevarine from reading his journal, knew why he'd been brought to Morrowind. The threat of Dagoth Ur reached everyone, apparently even vampires.

"I can guess why." Saber told him in a droll tone.

Brows arched. "You think you know my thoughts now?"

Presumably, Saber felt the bond would allow such insight. Oddly he only had his own assumptions. "I'm a bit indisposed at the moment." He muttered with a grimace. "So I can honestly say I don't really care why you 'spared my life'."

The vampire looked away a moment, his face a mask of stone. Nekros had excelled at hiding what he was thinking. When he looked back, the bemused expression was back in place. "Your doubts of my intentions are a bit disturbing, but nevertheless…" He tossed something at him, a small bottle that glittered in the fire glow of the lantern. "Here's something else to ponder on."

Saber knew what it was by the seal, recognizing a glyph of healing. It wasn't just a homemade brew, but an expensive potion that promised to set him completely right again.

Hope of actually surviving this ordeal flared quickly, only to be stifled by stubborn resentment to the vampire offering his help.

"Poison?" He asked. The comment was to remind his former master of he remembered the 'lessons' he endured as a child. Sipping poisons to build resistances were to teach the would-be assassin the effects of each type of toxin. Many were painful lessons, leaving him sick and hurting. If not for taking a substance called Shadowbane, to help build resistances, Saber felt he may have died a number of times. The same substance also left him sterile, leaving him to never have a family of his own. One more reason to hate Nekros.

Nekros's eyes narrowed, and chin lifted slightly at the barb. "Perhaps it can heal your old wounds." After another moment of obstinate silence, he gave a light-hearted shrug. "Either case….I will leave you to your troubles. Dawn is approaching. You may not wish to sit still for very long. I understand the City Ordinators are looking for a particular heretic. I wonder if there is a reward…"

A low chuckle hinted at his considerations of retrieving such a reward, and echoed in the cave long after he left. Of course, he wouldn't dare enter the city so close to the dawn, or confront Ordinators who readily hate vampires.

Saber glared at the bottle. "I really hate him."

The potion, however, completely revived and healed his wounds. Minutes after gulping the contents, the Dunmer refitted his gear to head to Balmora.

Eiryn resettled her pack across her shoulders as she gathered the remaining supplies. The sun had barely risen when she headed out to prepare for her trip back to the city of Vivec. Arathor, who had bumped into her at the mages' guild the night before. He surprised her by showing up at dawn to see if she still intended on going.

"And what am I supposed to tell Saber should he arrive today?" He dogged her with questions.

The young Breton shot a dark look. "I don't have time for this, Arathor!"

"Don't spit your venom at me." He shot back. "Save it for the elf who deserves your anger. I'm trying to the be the voice of reason here."

"Not with that voice, you aren't." She muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing." She nudged him out of the way to stuff extra healing scrolls in her belt. "I only plan on going to Vivec, see if I hear of any rumors and I'll come back straight away. I won't be gone long."

Dark eyes rolled dramatically. "Oh sure you will. Why do you suddenly sound like Saber, eh? Isn't that _his_ line?" A dark glare directly at him decided him to change tactics. "Besides, isn't Saber heading the Blades' guild here? Doesn't that mean you have to follow his orders? He told you to stay here."

She finished, taking her staff with her. "Actually he told me to go to Balmora, which I did. I'm here, right? Now I'm going back."

Arathor sighed heavily. "Eiryn, we both know how Saber is going to feel when he comes here and finds you've gone back, quite possibly into danger." When she turned to leave, he grasped her arm, tugging her attention back to him. "He's going to take his anger out on me!"

She knew Saber would never hurt a friend of his, and Arathor's tactic for sympathy fell on deaf ears. "Tell him he can wait for _me_ for a change." She turned towards the door, yanking it open before the wood elf could argue further.

Before Arathor could respond, she looked up to find the very Dunmer in question standing in the doorway. His hand had paused midair to the door latch as if preparing to open the door. By his jerk of surprise, he hadn't expected anyone to be there let alone find her ready to leave.

Relief shook her to her core. _He's alive! _

A light squeak of surprise escaped her, deflating into a gasp. Eiryn grabbed him in a fierce hug. "You're back!" Her voice was muffled against his chest.

Arms gathered around her, warm and familiar. His chest rumbled a laugh. "Now Eiryn," His voice murmured in a chiding tone, "Please tell me you were not coming back to rescue me..."

Unable to muster anger, she answered. "As long as you don't tell me that you'd do the very same if you were me."

Unbeknown to the young scout, Arathor stood behind her, nodding vigorously, mouthing words_ "I tried to stop her!"_

Saber pressed lips to stifle his laugh. "I'm fine, so no harm done."

The Bosmer thief moved to leave. He paused while shutting the door. "Best consider a new hideout. The Temple will come looking for you." He realized neither paid any attention to him. "I'll leave you _heretics_ alone then, to do...whatever it is heretics do."

Eiryn waved him out to hurry his departure, turning to Saber with a scowl. She pointed a stern finger in his face. "Don't you _ever_ tell me to leave you like that again!"

Unaffected by her anger, the elf gently grasped her hand to hold against his heart. He leaned forward to brush lips against her pout. "We both know this will happen again; its our nature. Besides, we need to be discussing where we go now, not fighting. I have two more Houses to convince I'm the best choice for their Champion. Where do we suggest we go next?"

Lips still so close to her own, Eiryn grinned mischievously. "I have a better idea what we can do..."

Whatever his retort was lost in a passionate kiss. Time enough for hero stuff later, he mused to himself. Discussion on saving the world could wait for a time.

NOTE: This ends this chronicle of House Hlaalu. I'll be starting the next chronicle soon.


End file.
